


Loyalty at Any Price

by seidrade



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: (If you count use of Mjolnir), (re: Loki's prior mental states), A Cornucopia of Ways To Suffer, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bondage, Canon Divergence - Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Crying, Dirty Talk, Dubcon fantasies, Everything is consensual, Face-Fucking, Feelings Realization, Heavy Emotions, I promise it'll be okay, Lots of Goddamn Talking, M/M, Mild Domination, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, References to Torture and Thanos, Rimming, Sibling Incest, Suicidal Thoughts, Two Stupid Brothers In Love, discussion of suicide, emotional whiplash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-10-28 10:44:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17785898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seidrade/pseuds/seidrade
Summary: “This whole time, I’ve been searching the Nine Realms— alone— for answers to questions I barely know how to ask. I thought Heimdall at his watch, our father upon the throne, and most grievously… I thought you lost to me forever.” Thor’s resurgence of anger gives way to something like despair. He can’t tell whether he wants to pummel Loki into one giant bruise, or hold him and weep like a child.When Thor returns to Asgard and exposes Loki’s deception, his demands for answers and Loki’s reluctance to give them soon bubble over into a cathartic confrontation.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FoundlingMother](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoundlingMother/gifts).



> This is one of my earliest attempts at Thorki, written back in Feb-Mar 2018 for the very lovely foundlingmother, based upon the prompt: “where the fuck have you been?” (Uh... surprise, here it is! Way bigger and later than intended!)
> 
> An alternate take on the opening scenes of Thor Ragnarok, it was never posted because I decided to angst over it and occasionally refine it every few months instead. Originally meant to be a one-shot, now split into chapters for convenience. All mistakes are my own, comments are loved and appreciated :)

_xx_

“It’s very simple,” says Thor, a dark humour tinting his benign words. He ignores Odin’s struggles, holding him fast as though he were no more than a kitten. “Either you are the Allfather… or I’ll see you on the other side, brother.”

He feels even before he sees the moment the decision is made. A blur of shimmering gold and Loki is springing forth from his disguise and spinning away from Thor. He gets a glimpse of all-too-familiar green eyes, furious in their panic.

The usual satisfying smack of the hammer against Thor’s calloused palm is eclipsed by the swelling of too many emotions to adequately describe— anger and betrayal surging foremost amongst them.

“Welcome home, Thor,” Loki says, recovering with magnanimous aplomb, tucking back a stray lock of hair and backing surreptitiously toward the divan to give some distance between them. “How wonderful of you to grace us with your mighty presence.” He holds out his arms in a greeting, or perhaps supplication. Thor cares not.

Their audience shrinks back in a haze of whispers as Thor strides forward and Loki’s legs hit the back of the divan. He allows himself to gracefully descend into the cushions, as if this entire scene was merely unfolding according to his grand artistic vision. Thor has little patience for the charade. He plants Mjolnir on Loki’s chest and Loki’s eyes burn up into him with something Thor can’t name.

For his own part, Thor is livid; his mind whirring with possibilities of what has happened to Heimdall, to their father. But strangely enough, the first words that come out of his mouth are, “I thought you dead. For years, Loki. Where the _fuck_ have you been?” 

Loki just looks at him, nonplussed— because isn’t it perfectly simple, perfectly obvious? Thor imagines he must think it so; that pitying gaze only enrages him further. 

“Quite a mouth on you these days,” his brother observes, ever attempting to deflect. “I suppose that’s the good Captain’s influence? Or perhaps the Man of Iron?”

Thor clenches his jaw, ignores the gasps of the assembled nobles and actors (that _bloody_ play, he could scream) as he withdraws Mjolnir and in her stead reaches down to grab Loki by the lapel of his overcoat. He yanks his maddening brother to his feet, pulling him close enough that he can see the conflict not quite hidden in Loki’s eyes— the only tell amidst that porcelain mask of calm.

Whatever this is, Thor realizes— with a hot, roiling sickness in his gut— it can’t go on. This endless waltz needs to find a resolution, one way or another. It’s breaking him from the inside out. 

Loki just stares at him, all cold fire. Waiting for Thor’s next move. For his retribution, perhaps.

Without another word, Thor wraps his arm around Loki’s waist and pulls his brother hard to his chest, tugs him away from the divan and the ridiculous arbor. He swings Mjolnir around and up. Loki makes a startled yelp, not expecting to be manhandled _closer_ , nor to be lifted off his feet, but he instinctively grabs for Thor as the ground falls away and they’re airborne. 

The only place Thor can think to get any peace, any sanctuary away from prying eyes, is the royal chambers— as much as it pains him deeply to return there, knowing he will find them empty. But he needs answers and Loki will certainly give them up in the stillness of their mother's sanctuary.

Loki says nothing for the duration of their flight, doesn’t look up. A quick glance down reveals that his eyes are narrowed, face drawn with tension. He hasn’t ceased clutching at Thor, clinging as close as he possibly can. 

Thor can’t help but be reminded of the last time he held his brother. Recalls the overwhelming despair and panic as he felt the very life leaving Loki’s body; his desperate, futile attempts at wrenching Loki back from the cold grip of death. How, when he had seen with his own eyes…?

Despite his anger, a vast sense of relief at finding Loki whole and hale suddenly floods Thor’s being. Quick on its heels is a terrible ache at the reminder of how badly he’s missed Loki— how intensely he’s longed for the seemingly impossible return of his wayward other half. For the sweetness that used to balance their bitter moments. It’s weighed heavy on his mind, these last several years— months upon months of fruitless search with too many quiet moments for introspection and grief. 

Mother will never return to him, but somehow, joyously, _maddeningly_ , Loki keeps coming back. All Thor has longed for is finally in his arms and he is too devastated to cry, too relieved to celebrate, too angered to even rage properly. 

He isn’t altogether sure he will be able to release Loki when they reach their destination. But reach it they do, and when Thor touches down on the balcony, he manages to make himself relax his hold on Loki ever so slightly. 

“Open it,” he commands, and Loki wordlessly makes the smallest of gestures toward the balcony door, undoing the wards and causing it to swing open. Thor half carries, half drags Loki inside their parents’ bedchamber, kicking the door shut behind them and barely looking around to ensure their privacy before setting down Mjolnir with a thud. He wrenches Loki up against the nearest wall, hand fisted in his garments once more. 

They look at each other in near silence for a moment, only their heightened breathing breaking the stillness. In this hushed chamber of memories with its gentle light, the outside universe has all but ceased to exist. 

Once again, Thor watches Loki reassert his usual imperious bearing.

“You’re wrinkling my tunic,” he says, just as Thor opens his mouth to speak. Thor just looks at him, then huffs a disbelieving, distraught laugh. 

“Why must you be like this,” he demands, knowing he will get no satisfactory response. “I watched you _die_ , Loki. For the second time, I watched you slip from my grasp— I mourned for you then, and every single day I mourn, still. Does that mean nothing to you?”

“...I’m honoured?” Loki looks almost blasé but it doesn’t quite hide his discomfort. And then Thor realizes that, of course, Loki never intended for him to see that damned play. The play that appeared to eulogize Loki’s legacy— and yet all Thor could see in it was a wry, twisted mockery of Loki’s sacrifice, of his own grief. Of what he’d thought was their last, desperate moment together. Of Loki’s final apology and the weight in his last words.

Thor’s brow furrows. “Why did you write that damned thing?”

“What?” says Loki, playing innocent for all the good it will do him. Thor growls, shaking him. He has greater questions that need answering. 

“This whole time I’ve been searching the Nine Realms alone, for answers to questions I barely know how to ask. I thought Heimdall at his watch, our father upon the throne— and don’t think I’ve remotely forgotten about _that_ , I’m getting to it— and most grievously… I thought you lost to me forever.” Thor’s resurgence of anger gives way to something like despair. He can’t tell whether he wants to pummel Loki into one giant bruise, or hold him and weep like a child.

“Help me understand, Loki—” he tries again. “Tell me this wasn’t just another meaningless cruelty, another of your games. Tell me truly, did you know you would survive?” Thor’s voice almost breaks and Loki looks even more uncomfortable.

“Yes, of course,” He says, smooth as ever, but it’s nearly a question, a weak attempt to provoke. Thor can hear the unspoken truth— knows Loki would be all but crowing with malicious pride if he’d managed to intentionally dupe Thor. His stilted formality and the lack of gloating speaks volumes. 

And Thor’s heart breaks again; he feels ill, realizing what must have happened. One possible reason Loki might have thought his survival wasn’t worth mentioning… 

“ _Loki_ … oh Norns,” he swears. “I never would have abandoned you if I’d known there was any hope of your survival— I saw that beast run you _straight through_ — the same blade that slay our mother,“ and here his voice cracks just a bit. How could Loki possibly have survived what their mother had not? “I saw the life leave your body, Loki.”

“Yes, well. I can see you did your very best, brother. Just as I did my best to avoid the _inconvenience_ of surviving,” Loki snaps, looking away, before meeting Thor’s eyes once more with a heat to his gaze. “But we don’t always get what we want, do we?”

Thor feels a grimace take his face, for more than one reason. “Why let me believe you dead? Why this masquerade?”

“Don’t give me all the credit, brother. I wouldn’t have had the _chance_ to do anything if you hadn’t so graciously left me there like a carcass for the vultures.” Loki all but spits at him with a cruel, taunting grin. “Just think, Thor! What was going to happen to me after we avenged Mother? Back to an eternity in a cell, you said it yourself,” he sneers. “A fitting reward for a loyal son! You’ll forgive me if I didn’t drag myself back from Svartalfheim to immediately turn myself in.”

“Loki, I—”

“And do you truly not recall that Odin in his grief and insanity would have banished you for openly defying his deranged orders? He may have tried to kill us both in his stupidity, but we still committed _treason_ , Thor!” Loki’s expression shifts into one of frustration. “I gave us both our freedom and I even— might I remind you— ever so kindly offered you the throne. _You_ were the one who walked away and abandoned a crippled Asgard to the whims of your mad father, chasing after trinkets far beyond your ken.” 

Loki’s eyes are burning into him, and Thor suddenly finds it hard to focus. “That was you even then?” He says after a moment, tightening his fist in Loki’s tunic. He hopes the wrinkles never come out. How dare Loki claim it was for Thor’s own good, how dare—

Loki frowns, trying to get Thor to ease off, but Thor just pushes even closer. “Yes, yes, that was me,” Loki confesses in a rush, as if trying to keep Thor at bay. “I put a working on Odin, just enough to make him forget who he was. He’s safe on Midgard in the finest of care. Far better than he deserves, no doubt.” Loki’s eyes flash, bitterness seeping into his words. “It was the best course of action.”

“That wasn’t the only way,” Thor protests, shaking him for emphasis. “I would have spoken for you! And as you apparently know, I kept my word and told Father of your sacrifice— or I would have, had you not gotten to him first! Why did you not give him the chance to redeem you?”

“There is no redemption in Odin’s eyes for the likes of me, Thor.” Loki’s eyes harden to match his voice but Thor can sense pain there, too.

“Do you truly think with Mother gone, the All-father would have left both of his sons to rot, no heir for the throne?” Thor groans in vexation, leaning in to rest his forehead against Loki’s, probably somewhat crushing him in the process. Loki halfheartedly pushes at his chest, to no avail. Thor is an immovable mountain.

“I know you don’t believe it,” he starts, “but despite his harshness and his grief, Father is not entirely a fool, Loki. He would have seen your bravery, that you nearly gave up your life to avenge Mother. I know what I said to you before, but I misspoke out of anger. I blamed you for everything, in my grief.” Thor’s voice softens, despite himself, and he brings his hand up to wrap around the back of Loki’s neck. The familiarity of it comforts him. He wonders how it makes Loki feel. 

“I would have championed you,” he asserts, eyes nearly closed, their foreheads still touching. “Odin would have redeemed you in the eyes of Asgard, I know it.”

“Like I said before…” replies Loki carefully, holding still beneath him. “I didn’t do it for him.”

The reminder of Loki’s last words brings a sharp pain to his chest. “Then who for,” Thor challenges, finally leaning back, their faces inches apart. “For Mother?”

“No. She was dead and gone.” Loki says in that stiff, unemotional voice he uses when he’s holding back some great torment. 

“Then why—”

“For _us_ , you great imbecile.”

“I— but you—”

“Don’t make me say it twice.”

Thor leans back a bit further, makes to protest, but Loki pushes forward, hissing so Thor can feel his breath against his skin. “Don’t you see? Were it not for me, you may never have seen this place again, save from the confines of a cell! Instead, you returned a hero to your precious Midgard and your costumed friends. To your mortal woman.” His face is a study in bitterness. “Really, you should be thanking me.”

Thor recoils further, angered again as before. “Thanking you? I didn’t ask you for any of that! I didn’t ask you to die for me— or let me go on thinking you had!” He scowls right back, frustrated. “I would rather have known my brother was alive and well, and taken our punishments together if needs must, than to wrongly think him lost forever. _Again_.”

Loki rolls his eyes and tries to brush him off. “Don’t be so dramatic, Thor,” he sighs, but Thor just pushes him back against the wall, hard, with a hand on each of his biceps, pinning his arms to his side and giving him a shake.

“What good are we apart, Loki?” he demands. “Answer me that. These past many years have driven a wedge between us that I don’t know how to pry away.” Loki seems unmoved. Thor tries again. 

“Do you know how many endless nights I lay awake thinking of you— how much I regretted everything that had come to pass? How just as it seemed we might finally have a chance of coming back together, you were taken from me. And now I see it’s all been a farce?” Thor realizes he’s shaking with barely restrained anger in the face of Loki’s impassivity. “You explain it all as if there was no other way, but all I hear is that you’d rather be dead than alive to me. Do you not understand my anger?” 

“I cannot be held accountable for you refusing to listen to reason,” Loki says acidly, and Thor realizes heat is pouring off his normally cool skin, burning under his palms. Loki had always felt poorly at the height of summer, though they’d never known why. Not until recently… 

Then something odd occurs to Thor.

“Were you hiding from me?” He demands, shaking Loki slightly.

Loki looks affronted. “I was hiding from everyone until you ruined my cover!”

“No, Loki— were you hiding from _me_.”

Thor stares into him and Loki returns as good as he gets. 

“There is much you still do not understand,” he says stiffly, “but I suggest you unhand the King of Asgard.”

Thor doesn’t rise to the bait. “Why? What for? Was it about your true parentage? Because now all of Asgard surely knows about that. It matters not to me, Loki.”

Loki manages to stiffen even further. “Thor…” he says as a warning, and Thor can see a green glow in his peripherals. Can feel the press of a dagger against his side, below his ribs— the usual place. “Back. Off.”

Thor feels a mournful tug at the corner of his mouth, the bitter recollections welling up within him. “Mother and Father… they told me, finally, after you fell— the whole story. That you… that you were Laufey’s son.” He stops, swallows hard. Never has it been said it out loud between them before. Never has it been fully acknowledged between them— not on Earth when he was sent to bring Loki home with the Tesseract. Not on Asgard, when he burned with anger and confusion and could not bear to visit his brother’s cell; nor later on Svartalfheim, with their mother slain and Jane suffering and the realms hanging in the balance. There was never time for it, and Thor knows in his heart of hearts that he’d kept it that way on purpose. Loki doesn’t meet his eyes and Thor feels a pang of sorrow in the tenderest parts of his gut.

“I loved you and mourned you no less, Loki. Have you forgotten I tried to make you return home when I found you on Midgard?” 

Loki just frowns, his lips a thin line of mistrust, and Thor sighs. “It wasn’t mere duty, Loki. I know you think it so, but believe me, you have no idea how badly I wanted my brother back.”

“You profess such sweetness now, yet your very first words were for the Tesseract,” scoffs Loki. “All Odin wanted was to collect his wayward mistake. I was just a shameful loose end. Or else a tool, to be locked away and called for only when nobody else could do the job.” His face darkens and the dagger presses into Thor’s ribs with renewed intent. “I have had some years to reflect on this. I am not the same man I was then. But I do not forget easily.”

Thor groans in aggravation, heedless of the blade. “And you know I lack your way with words! It was a genuine threat, Loki! To you as much as any. I—I confess, I was afraid. Afraid for you, when I heard what foul deeds were afoot. That you had emerged from the abyss with such dark power, so changed. I _knew_ you wanted to call the whole foolish thing off, I could see it. Even when you dropped me from the sky in a glass cage. Even when you stabbed me— especially when you stabbed me.” Thor finds himself laughing under his breath, and he can’t tell if it’s for sadness or fondness. “My little brother back from the dead and my first order is to subdue him by whatever means necessary, when all I wanted was to show I loved him still.”

“It’s a fine thing, surely, to be able to paint the past with such a shining glaze of selflessness and noble sentiment,” Loki all but purrs, his lips wearing a smug grimace— nothing but contempt in his slitted eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

Thor’s patience snaps. “Why must you be so obstinate,” he growls, squeezing Loki’s arms harder, as if to will him to understand.

Loki’s eyes seem to flash red for a moment and Thor suddenly wonders, about the skin underneath— 

“Tell me you didn’t benefit, Thor!” Loki hisses, viciously. “Tell me truly you weren’t better off without me. You kept your freedom, love and adoration, all the things you’ve _always_ had. And I’ve been stuck here pretending to be a decrepit old man, trading one prison for the next!”

Loki is seething and Thor has to hold tighter to restrain him, heedless of the dagger still held to his side. “You think I’ve been having fun, Thor? You think I’ve enjoyed this charade, that I-- that I laugh myself to sleep? Once again, I make a sacrifice not only for myself but for you, and this is the thanks I get.” 

“Loki,” Thor’s voice is low and full of warning. “I know there are things you aren’t telling me. I’m sure you have your reasons. All I want to know is why you never sent any sign, any signal at all that you were alive. I want to know the truth.”

Loki is livid, spitting at Thor in outraged disbelief— “You think you would have ever let me remain here quietly? Look at you now— you’ve already forced me to publicly reveal myself, heedless of the consequences! News will have reached Vanaheim by nightfall, and then beyond. All because you couldn’t wait to show everyone how you outsmarted Loki. Haven’t you done enough damage for today?”

Thor frowns. Guilt and worry gnaw at him at Loki’s words— what consequences does his brother fear, apart from their father? Thor can’t say for certain, but he senses there’s something lurking in Loki’s face, behind the anger in his eyes. Something drawn and haunted about his bearing. 

“Brother,” he tries again, daring to reach a hand up and caress the back of Loki’s neck once more. Trying to soothe him. “The truth.”

Loki twitches at his touch, as if he wishes to shy away. His face is a dark scowl, a tempest brewing in the shadows of his brow. “Since when?” He challenges. “When has my truth ever been enough for you?”

“Loki—“ Thor grips the back of his neck harder. “Don’t run from me.”

Loki locks his jaw and bares his teeth at Thor, chest heaving with anger. “All right. You want to know ‘where the fuck’ I’ve been? I’ve been to Hel and beyond, Thor. To places whose horrors would far exceed the limits of your pitiful imagination. There was no ransom or rescue. No, I clawed and fought and bargained and ever so dishonorably tricked my own way out, with no regard for who or what I needed to sacrifice along the way.” He sneers in contempt and it makes Thor’s skin crawl to see what’s been done to his baby brother. “And for that, I gladly accept that I will forever be a villain, a traitor, and a murderer. I did what I had to do to survive and I regret none of it. I would do it again in an instant.”

He glares at Thor with fiery eyes, as if challenging him to object, but Thor doesn’t dare speak— his mind awhirl with what Loki’s implying.

Loki huffs, as if disappointed by Thor’s sudden lack of fight. “Well. When all was said and done, I was locked away by the Allfather to rot in a cell for all eternity. Did you not find it funny, no one cared so much as to _ask_ me before my sentencing what had happened to cause such madness in me— presumably because you expected it all along. Odin certainly did.” His face twists and it pains Thor to look upon him. Guilt aches within him, lead in his veins.

“And wouldn’t you know…” Loki glances away, around the chambers, the hardness around his eyes softening for a brief moment. “Through a happy accident, I found myself just a little bit of sanctuary— a prison with a view. And now you would begrudge me even that.” Bitterness colours Loki’s voice as his eyes go dark, shifting back to Thor’s face. “Did you even think for a moment that it might not _all_ have been about you, Thor? Did the thought even cross your mind that there were far, _far_ greater things at play when I set upon your precious Earth?”

Thor is struck silent, not knowing what to say. He _had_ asked— who controls the would-be king?— but only the once, and then the vague concern had been lost in the shuffle. By the time the dust settled, he had truly believed Loki was capable of such catastrophic spite. He also knows that Loki would never have admitted being anything less than perfectly in control if he was under duress— he knows his brother’s pride better than most. That he admits anything of the sort now is disarming, and concerning for many reasons. Thor’s mind is spinning... 

“Now, release me,” Loki sneers, not giving him time to connect all the dots. “And I’ll be out of your way for good this time. Take the throne or throw Asgard to the wolves, I no longer care what becomes of it.” His voice is as venomous as Thor’s ever heard it, and he struggles hard but Thor’s hands are pinning him again, ready and firm. Despite Loki’s many protests, despite the threat of his blade, he has yet to injure Thor— that has to count for something.

“And me,” Thor counters, pressing Loki harder against the wall. “Do you care what becomes of me? Did you not tell me once never to doubt your love?”

“Times change,” Loki snaps, nearly wresting his dagger arm free. Thor groans with frustration. He leans in, bracing a thigh against Loki’s to try and keep his stubborn, idiot brother still, to make him _listen_ for once in his Norn-forsaken life. 

“Do you really mean for me to doubt you now?” He challenges, knowing Loki will feel his breath once again upon his face and be annoyed, and not caring. “Do you truly expect me to believe you wish to turn your back on our only home? That you would rather wander the universe alone, dodging your enemies? Will you not allow me to set things to rights?” Loki shoves against him with a curse on his lips and Thor bears down, fearful that Loki will flee as soon as he breaks loose.

“Stop pushing me away and let me help, you damn fool,” he growls. “How can you think I wouldn’t want you by my side? Do you not understand?” Loki makes an enraged noise and makes to twist away. In an unthinking moment of desperation, Thor presses his whole body hard against him, thumb pressing firmly under Loki’s jaw, over the rapid pulse in his throat. 

“You said it yourself, you did this for us, Loki!” Thor all but shouts in his desperation. “And now I mean to do the same! It has _always_ been thus!”

Loki stops struggling abruptly and goes still as a rabbit in a snare. Thor is relieved for a moment but then he realizes something very odd— there is something that feels remarkably like a swelling cock pressed snugly against his thigh. 

Thor’s brow furrows, glancing down. He pushes his leg closer, testing. He feels Loki’s cock twitch against his thigh as it grows harder. Hears his sudden, sharp inhale only inches from Thor’s ear.

Thor’s eyes instinctively snap up to Loki’s, as if his brother will be able to say something perfectly reasonable by way of explanation.

But Loki just stares wide-eyed at him, and there is something awful, dead and disconcerting about his gaze. The eerie look of a man being lead to the gallows; so deeply resigned as to appear nearly grateful to meet his end.

“Loki?” Thor hoarsely asks, loosening his grip on Loki’s throat, a chill running up his spine. His anger stymied. 

“Get off me, Thor,” Loki says, turning his face down and away, holding himself otherwise perfectly still.

Thor numbly releases his hold on Loki and takes a step back. Then another, and another. Loki is still for another moment before he lolls his dark head back to center, unruly hair like an inkstain on the parchment pale of the wall. He looks at Thor but his eyes are still hollow. He holds out his hands and drops his dagger to the floor, where it clatters harshly on the polished stone.

“Now you see me, brother.” 

The familiar words slip under Thor’s skin as quiet and true as any blade. Loki’s lips are pressed into a firm line, and there is wetness shining in his distant eyes. 

“Now you see me for the wretched creature I am.”

_xx_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki sighs regretfully, his ire fading for a moment and leaving him looking young and anxious once more. He rubs his hands together— an old nervous tic Thor knows all too well. 
> 
> “You know, I came close to confessing it all to you in my final moments; but even then, perhaps knowing I would never find peace, I bit my tongue.” He grimaces, as if chastising himself for revealing so much. 
> 
> “You see, you have it all wrong, Thor. I have not made a fool of you. The joke was only ever upon myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As before, all mistakes are mine.

_xx_

Loki.

Gods, _Loki_.

He seems so vulnerable; so young and yet so unbearably old.

_Now you see me, brother._

Thor can barely breathe for the tightness in his breast. He has only ever seen his brother this full of quiet despair over their mother’s death and their father’s rejection. What does Loki fear most from him? His rage? His disgust? His violence? What abyss does Loki picture when he looks at Thor now?

“Loki—“ he starts.

“Enough!” Loki’s composure suddenly breaks and his fists clench at his sides as his eyes go wild. “Leave me!”

“I don’t understand,” Thor tries to demand, but it sounds to his ears like a plea. “Speak to me, Loki. Don’t push me away, all I want is to know— what—“ He holds up his hands, helplessly, wanting to embrace Loki but knowing he shouldn’t. Hesitant to believe what his eyes and heart are telling him… there must be something else he’s not seeing. Some misunderstanding, surely?

“Ah, I see. You want to know what a twisted fiend your _brother_ truly is?” Loki sneers, wrapping himself in harsh words and bitter spite once more. “Never doubt that our bond is a poisonous thing. You truly want to know the darkest reason I hid from one and all? That nearly worse than the thought of being discovered by my enemies with all their creative torments, was the thought that you would realize how I have come to covet your flesh?” 

His smile is truly vicious, almost triumphant, as Thor’s eyes widen at this secret twice confessed— first with blood, now with breath. Hearing Loki’s mouth shape those words, his intentions made undeniably explicit… _this_ is what makes Thor’s breath catch in his throat and his heart seem to trip over its own rhythm. 

“Oh, don’t look so damned shocked. Is it really so surprising? My whole life has been made to revolve around yours— always so _desperate_ for your approval.” Loki sneers at his younger self. “And then I came to find I was nothing more than a convenient fiction meant to cover up the grotesque truth. A sworn enemy, further than ever from your supposed goodness. No matter how arrogant, how bloodthirsty and blind you became— I was never your equal, by design.” Loki pauses, eyeing him as if greedy for a response, some sort of reaction, and Thor finds his voice for a moment. 

“No… Loki...” 

But his feeble words aren’t enough, he’s chosen poorly, and Loki just scoffs at him. “Ah, yes. That’s exactly what Odin said. You were there, don’t you remember? All I did to prove my loyalty, with his very own actions as my guide… and still he forsake me. A punishment for my inherent weakness. My _insufficiencies_. How could you ever look upon me after that? To suffer death would be kinder than to suffer your hatred or worse, your pity.” He laughs, artificially light, and it makes Thor’s gut twist to hear it.

“And when I fell— oh, when I was so _unlucky_ to have the comfort of death pulled away from me, he made me remember. Every slight, every insult from you, replayed over and over— until it made me as foul and desperate as the rest of that stinking horde.”

“Who did this to you?” Thor grasps for clarity. Trying to unravel this tangled mess. But there’s a nearly manic light in Loki’s eyes now.

“I hated you,” he spits, fists clenching, still holding himself rigid as he pushes away from the wall. “More than ever. And yet when we met again at last, I hated you greater still— for I realized I couldn’t ever truly be rid of you. There was a pathetic part of me that would always _long_ for your approval. No matter how many times I had to recall your cruelty. No matter how much you tormented me, you were all I wanted and it sickened me.”

Loki stops abruptly, heaving a deep breath, fists still clenched at his sides. 

“So you wonder why I pushed you away?” He gives a harsh, short laugh, seemingly at Thor’s foolishness, or perhaps his own. “Don’t you see how enticing it was, having you run after me, watching you _beg_ me with the same feeble weakness I used to beg you? For you to have to give chase, for you to not get what you wanted _for once_? Oh Thor... for the very first time, it was you who were desperate for me.”

Loki’s voice is raw with emotion, and Thor can’t tell if it’s desire or anger or satisfaction or something beyond all those things. His own stomach roils in response, overcome with a sudden chill even as his palms grow sweaty. He has faced dangers most beings in the galaxy could never fathom, but here, in the face of this… he does not know if he has ever felt so feeble.

But Loki isn’t done. He observes Thor’s discomfort and laughs again, a familiar cruel smirk overtaking his features as he folds his arms in front of his chest.

“Oh, you great idiot. You really had no idea? You never realized how foolishly I ached for you to burn my impurities away? You know, after my delightful little defeat on Midgard, I deluded myself into thinking perhaps there was still some way… some means for you to beat the filth from my heart with all your golden might." He gives a harsh laugh, bitterness in every line of his body. "But of course, you abandoned me as soon as you’d brought me to heel. Hauled me back to Odin and left me to rot without so much as a backwards glance until Mother was slain. You caged the monster and made your feelings quite clear: I was nothing to you.”

Thor tries to protest, but Loki cuts him off, drawing himself to his full height.

“And then on Svartalfheim, do you remember?” A feverish gleam enters Loki’s eyes as he takes a step forward. “We fought on the skiff while your mortal woman lay prone. I was bound and still, you would have hit me in anger. I know you only caught yourself out of some misguided sense of duty towards Frigga, or else pity.” He exhales harshly through his nose, shaking his head and looking away as he presses his lips hard together, their usual slash of colour bled pale. 

And then he meets Thor’s eyes once more, and the world seems to completely fall away.

Thor has never before seen this kind of desire on Loki— this dark, agonized wanting, wide-pupiled and all-consuming in its intensity. It feels like a physical blow, as if every last thread of Yggdrasil woven within him has just shuddered in unison. Thor isn’t sure if he reacts aloud, but his heart begins to race and a feverish chill washes over him once more.

“I realized then,” Loki speaks in a low, intent tone, gazing directly into Thor, “that I was truly unafraid of anything you might do to me. Far from it— I had been _longing_ for your retribution, the entire time in my cell. Perhaps my entire life.” His voice is raw with emotion, his tattered composure barely intact, but still he doesn’t look away. “I wanted your fight. _Pathetically_ ached for your touch. Your fists, your teeth, your cock— I cared not. I only wanted you to tear me to pieces. Anything you would give me, any punishment or pain, I would gladly take and ask for more…” Here he pauses, and the breath he takes seems pained. 

“And still, you were indifferent to me. You had won yet again and you didn’t even know it.”

Loki is visibly trembling now, clenching and unclenching his fists, whereas Thor is all but frozen, unable to tell whom between them is the greater source of Loki’s distress. Loki’s words are stirring something hot and strange within him even as they rip him to shreds, as if he’s swallowed hundreds of tiny shards of glass. But he’s ravenous for them— would swallow thousands more, if it meant he could finally understand.

“Yes, that was when I knew,” Loki presses on. “When I finally understood that I desired you in a way no brother, by blood or by thievery, ought dare.” A thin, bitter laugh escapes him— one Thor is certain he didn’t mean to make. “And worse, the hideous nature of what I craved from you— ah, it sickens and delights me to speak of it, even now.” Loki’s eyes slide shut as he presses his palms together and brings them to his lips for a moment, as if to calm or steel himself. Thor lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“So I did what I must. I laughed it off. We made our plans.” His eyes slowly open, but they seek the floor. “I fulfilled my bargain and avenged our mother, with no optimism for what the future should hold in the event of my survival— and in the end, as I felt that foul blade, I thought perhaps it was a mercy, that it would be better for everyone if I fell on the battlefield.” He now returns Thor’s aghast gaze with steady indifference, an ironic twist to his lips. “You would remember me fondly as a hero in my final act. As your beloved brother once more-- not as the beast I truly was. A masterful final act of deception. Or would’ve been, had I been allowed to remain dead.”

Loki sighs regretfully, his ire fading for a moment and leaving him looking young and anxious once more. He rubs his hands together— an old nervous tic Thor knows all too well. “You know, I came close to confessing it all to you in my final moments; but even then, perhaps knowing I would never find peace, I bit my tongue.” He grimaces, as if chastising himself for revealing so much. “You see, you have it all wrong, Thor. I have not made a fool of you. The joke was only ever upon myself.”

Thor can’t believe what he’s hearing. Any of it. “You— you truly meant to die. Loki, you don’t still—“

Loki waves him off, impatiently. “That was years ago— I have no great desire to attempt a third such venture, not least because it now seems futile. Though the last several minutes are making it rather more appealing…”

“What then,” counters Thor, because at least he knows how to ask _these_ questions, of all the ones currently filling him to the brim. “What happened when you opened your eyes, expecting to be dead.”

Loki gives a black grin. “I awoke with a darkness raging inside of me— the wound I sustained was not a kind one. But I was alive. And I knew you would be a foolish idiot and go running straight to Odin. And so, like the whipped dog that I am, I came slinking back to protect you. And yes, fine, to protect myself— as I said, I’ve made a few enemies in recent years.” Again, that secretive wry smirk, that haunted look to Loki’s face that Thor wishes he could ease.

“Once you finally left Asgard, I hoped my wounds would heal and my depraved lusts would cease. I would finally have some reprieve— a chance to come back to my senses. Only what do I find?” Loki glares at him, having found a new source of ire. “I see you around every corner, haunting my steps and invading my sleep. I must ever speak fondly of you in public, as the Allfather should of his one true son and heir— and give no indication of my true nature. Nor how it torments me so bittersweetly to think of how you would react once you knew the shape of my desires. One madness begets another.”

Thor is overwhelmed, all but drowning in the torrent of Loki’s words, as their full meaning begins to properly sink in. Loki truly wants… oh gods, the things he _desires_. Thor doesn’t know what to say. He can barely breathe. 

All he knows is, he’s not running. Loki needs him; more to the point, they need each other. Thor knows this with a certainty unlike any other. He wants his brother back at his side, everything else be damned. Despite his shock, he knows to reject Loki now would be to court disaster.

And strangely enough, nothing Loki has said has appalled Thor even a fraction as much as the thought of shaming him for it. He has had enough of that for a lifetime.

“Loki—“ he says, strength returning to him. “Brother.”

Loki snarls at him. “Don’t you understand, you fool? My thoughts are no longer of you purifying me, but _ruining_ me— and I, you. Put us to the crucible and in our alloy, I would taint you until you were no longer wholesome and good. No longer the shining joy of Asgard. And I would forever despise myself for destroying the very thing I—“

Loki catches himself, swallowing the words before they can leave his tongue. He huffs, but Thor knows what he would have said, if he allowed himself.

“The truth is,” Loki starts again, wearily. “Despite my efforts, I’ve never been able to rise above what I am. You thought it would bring you glory to slay the monster and rescue me, didn’t you? How then did it feel to learn I was the beast?” An almost kind smile, and the more cruel for it. But he isn’t looking for a reply. 

“Eventually, to my surprise, I found strength in knowing my fate. Perhaps I should’ve listened to you sooner when you told me to know my place. By the time you met me on Midgard, I’d finally accepted the role I’ve been given from the moment of my birth— which, naturally, you were _equally_ unable to abide.” Loki’s nostrils flare as his anger takes hold once more, catching quick as grassfire. 

“You called me ‘brother’ and ‘villain’ in the same breath— claimed we were family even as you disowned me in action. So who is the greater deceiver, of the two of us?” Loki’s teeth are bared in a horrible grimace. “Who believed his own lies, Thor? That we could be a glorious, happy family, whole and unbroken! That I could ever stand by your side as an equal! Now you know the foulest depths of my nature— you know I am not truly fit to claim even a throne built of such hypocrisy as Odin’s.” Another thin laugh, as if he can barely stomach his own words. “There is truly nothing left, Thor. No amount of apology or _understanding_ or precious sentiment can change that.”

Thor shakes his head, feeling a headache threatening. The room has grown darker for the clouds threatening rain above. He tries to hold it together. “Loki, that’s not what I—“ but he cuts off abruptly, sensing that’s not the right tack. Takes a deep breath.

“No… you are right.”

Loki doesn’t quite manage to hide his surprise. Thor knows how rarely he’s told his brother that he’s right about anything— much less professed his own wrongdoings. But he can start now.

“I’m sorry, Loki… both for all I've done and all I’ve said. For my part in making you so convinced you were unloved, or unwanted, or else only a tool to be used. I was blind to my callousness, Loki, I truly was. I wish I could take it all back— I don’t…” He stumbles, desperately searching for the right thing to say. “I don’t ever wish you to see yourself as a monster. As if that could possibly be the truth. You have so much good in you, Loki, I am as certain of this as I am of the stars in the sky. Your trials have made you harsh, and yes, you have done grievous wrongs... but I know that is not what you are. I have made plenty mistakes of my own. I know that you… that you are not the things you have done. That a design which would make you unequal to me is a design I want no part of.”

Thor pauses to collect himself. Regain some of his bearing— Loki wouldn’t tolerate any less. “Listen to me now, brother, and listen well. I don’t want to do this anymore. This foolish game where you endlessly push me away and I chase you, when we both know you want me here with you.” His mind lingers for a bit too long on the particular ways Loki evidently wants him, feels the odd sensation of heat rising to his cheeks. That’s something he doesn’t yet know how to process.

Loki scoffs, but doesn’t say anything. He’s tamped down on his expressiveness of earlier, the openness of his face now banished like a distant memory. Thor frowns.

“Tell me truly, Loki… am I to be allowed to make amends? Pride is but a cold comfort, I have had to learn this many times over.” Thor sets his jaw. “And I don’t want you to punish yourself, or push me away out of some... some misguided attempt at sparing me. You are the _last_ thing I will ever need protection from.”

Loki barks a harsh, disbelieving laugh. “When you first arrived,” he drawls, “you were enraged that I had caused you to suffer my death. Now upon the reveal of a secret arguably worse, you act as though I could never wound you. Is that your idea of kindness, to reduce me in your hypocrisy to a house pet?” His voice rises in anger. “You ignore the truth whenever it suits you!” 

“You twist my words, Loki,” Thor finds himself protesting. “I never said you could not wound me. We both know that isn’t true. I said only that I do not need _protection_ from you, and that is what I meant. I will take my wounds if I must.”

Loki sneers, tilting his head back and regarding Thor with an eye gleaming. “Just imagine it,” he begins, ignoring Thor’s reply. “Imagine if, on top of my already _numerous_ crimes, I were the one to finally taint the Thunderer, mighty defender of the Nine Realms, Asgard’s pride and joy— now wouldn’t that be a scandal for the ages.” His voice flows effortlessly from one flavour of mockery to another. “You must know I’ve fantasized of it. Breaking you down until you beg me for completion. Such a union would surely rid you of every last shred of righteousness. Of _worthiness_. It certainly has its appeal, dearest brother mine...”

Thor knows the leer that follows is intended to raise his hackles. He finds his face and chest warming at the throaty, suggestive tone in Loki’s voice, at his evocative words. Struggles to maintain his calm. Knows Loki is using this supposed weakness— his evident desire for Thor— as a weapon and shield in one. 

Yes, Loki claims to want, but Thor knows his brother this much. He is self-denying, will never allow himself to obtain his desires. And he has nursed this secret alone in darkness for so long that he is convinced of the futility of wanting— he means only to shock and horrify, to drive the wedge ever deeper between them. Perhaps for good.

Thor knows he has to break through somehow, but the path seems inscrutable, the right course too slippery to grasp.

“Loki, I know what you’re doing,” Thor says, if only to buy time. “It’s not going to work.”

“What I’m _doing_? Do I look to be in a gaming mood?” Loki scoffs with disdain, never missing an opportunity to use Thor’s words against him. “I tell you honestly what wretched perversity lurks in my mind and you take it for a jest.”

Thor says nothing— watches, waits. 

Loki works his jaw in frustration, wringing his hands, and Thor catches something genuine in his crestfallen voice when he says, “I know you won’t listen to a Norn-forsaken word I say— but if you care anything for me still, anything at all, you will let me leave this place in peace and relieve me of this burden. Or else put me down like the dog I am.” 

“Loki, those aren’t the only options,” Thor chides, though in truth, he cannot yet see another that doesn’t end in misery for one or both of them. Unless… 

It’s not as though he hasn’t wondered in recent years about his father’s vague plan, hatched when he first took Loki as an infant, then strangely discarded at some point along the way… He’d mused over how things might have been different, had they been raised less as brothers and more as betrothed. If instead of competing with one another, they were encouraged to complete each other. Would it have eased any of their sorrows? Would it have brought just as much love and pain as the path they were set upon?

Thor had assumed the answers would forever remain lost to Yggdrasil.

Loki’s eyes are clouded but his voice is steady, full of almost kindly rebuke, or else pity. “You must realize, Thor. You and I— we cannot be what we once were, in our ignorant youth. Too much has changed. There is no happy reconciliation waiting.”

“Is it truly so impossible?” Thor asks, far gentler than he has been with Loki in many years. He is in no mood for harshness anymore. It wounds him to see Loki like this— and he sees now that Loki would never spill these secrets unless he truly intended to never see Thor again. Just as he would be loathe to apologize unless he thought himself at death's door. 

“It is,” Loki replies just as softly, then falls silent.

A hush settles over them again and it’s unclear what happens now. They have come to an impasse. Thor desperately aches to make Loki see that without him, Thor is nothing— _has_ been nothing for the last many years. He won’t go willingly back to that sorrow, that utter emptiness, and he doesn’t think Loki wants that either. They will never fit neatly together, will always have some torn and jagged edges that catch and fray, but he doesn’t need it to be easy. He isn’t looking for tidy.

And he knows the gulf between them will only continue to widen if he doesn’t act now.

Thor finds himself striding up to Loki without thought, without warning, backing him up against the wall once more, vehemently kicking the fallen dagger away. 

Loki shrinks from his full height, looks up at him with black-shot eyes, wide with confusion and frustration and fear— not of Thor’s fists, perhaps, but of his words, possibly. And yes, with undeniable desire. It is a wild, tumultuous gaze, carrying a torment that’s clearly consumed him from the inside out. 

A surge of protectiveness arises in Thor’s breast. Some greater force he doesn’t fully understand urges him onward.

He brackets his arm against the wall, leans in and presses their bodies close and Loki is once again burning against him. He remembers how, only minutes ago, the evidence of his brother’s desire was the only thing to stand between them. He needs to be closer, leave no opening for Loki to slip through and disappear.

Thor wedges a thigh roughly between Loki’s legs, recreating the conditions that lead him to his first discovery. His brother inhales sharply, looking up at him in almost horrified disbelief, then closing his eyes as Thor presses further. A low desperate moan escapes his throat. Thor can feel him hardening again through their leathers. 

This time, he doesn’t pull away. _This_ is the truth he seeks. And there is one more piece of the puzzle.

Thor’s hand reaches up almost of its own accord, spanning the side of Loki’s throat, thumb brushing under his jaw to feel his racing pulse once more. Now that it’s intentional, he sees it is a far more intimate expression than how he usually touches his brother’s neck. Loki submits to him, exposing more of his neck as he tilts his head back, eyes shutting tighter. Thor isn’t sure what he’s doing, but it feels right. His anxiety at the thought of losing Loki is already soothed by this closeness, by this strange new sense of touch.

“Don’t do this to me,” Loki pleads in a broken voice, pretense stripped away— just as Thor hoped, intuitively sought. This is what he wants to see. Loki laid bare to him.

“Don’t do what?” Thor asks, voice rough. To be honest, he’s feeling just as terrified as Loki, both their hearts hammering. Loki opens his eyes and _looks_ at him, despairingly. Thor has never seen his eyes so close and so glassy green, brought out by the redness of unshed tears— as he watches, one finally slips loose and tracks down Loki’s cheek. And then another, and another.  
Can he, Thor wonders? Will he? It’s surely worth a shot.

“Don’t use my weakness against me. Don’t torment me with what I can never have,” Loki pleads in a hushed tone, his implacable pride seeming to abandon him with his tears. “Does your cruelty know no end?”

Thor rolls his eyes. That settles it.

“Oh, shut up, Loki.”

He enjoys the look of shock on his brother’s face for just a moment before closing the distance, capturing his mouth in a fervent kiss. Their first.

A tempest is unleashed within Thor, a torrent of cacophony— his stomach is in his throat, feeling all the rush and the terror of a free fall, yet the fear is overwhelmed by a strange sense of warmth and comfort. Like every cruel exchange between them has been a lie, play-acted by others who wore their faces— and this, at long last, is a millennium’s worth of terrible, beautiful, cleansing truth distilled into one quiet moment. Into this smallest, most hopeful of gestures. 

Thor draws in Loki’s scent, reveling in the press of their lips. _Oh Norns, what have I done now_ , he thinks, not in horror but in awe.

Loki makes a sound against him—of panic or approval, Thor isn’t sure— and Thor wraps his arm around his waist, other hand still cupping his jaw, holding Loki close. Keeping him safe from himself. Showing him Thor isn’t here to hurt him.

It feels right. It feels _good_. Can Loki not feel it too?

Loki hasn’t responded to the kiss yet, but he hasn’t _not_ responded, and Thor takes advantage of his parted lips to slip his tongue inside just slightly. He feels Loki shiver and does it again, and on the third try, Loki hesitantly meets him halfway and then it’s Thor who moans, because by all rights it feels so much better than such a timid, fragile kiss should. It feels better than anything he could have imagined. Why hadn’t he done this years ago? Centuries ago?

He feels the moment Loki’s tightly-held resolve breaks— his brother all but melts against him, clutching at him and kissing him back in earnest with a groan of surrender. When Thor eventually draws back to catch a quick breath, head spinning, he’s oddly ecstatic to find that Loki doggedly pursues his lips, thrusting his tongue into Thor’s mouth, sliding against his with a passion and finesse befitting his most well-known epithet.

Even in his lowest moments of desperation and woe, Loki aspires to ever be artful. It’s one of the things Thor loves about him. 

And, he realizes with a start, a thing he’d love even more to see stripped away— Loki without his art, taken past the point of masks and subtlety and technique until he’s a beautiful, unguarded mess in Thor’s arms. He’s always loved the moments where Loki was truly at ease, his brother’s unbridled joy all the more infectious for its rarity— but the urge has suddenly taken on a new, darker flavour.

The mere thought of Loki wrecked with pleasure— at _his_ hands— is enough to make Thor moan against Loki’s mouth. He wickedly grinds his thigh harder against Loki’s groin, feeling his brother’s cock straining against its confines, growing thicker, making Loki inhale sharply against his lips. With a heady mixture of apprehension and eagerness, Thor feels his own prick responding in kind. 

The small, terrified part of him is quickly being eclipsed by the much greater urge to keep exploring this aspect of Loki, every piece of his physicality hitherto undiscovered. It feels like being handed the key to a realm as foreign and familiar as could ever be imagined. Both Loki and not— the man he’s known for over a thousand years abruptly colliding with this nascent being, all sharp gasps and clutching hands and conflicted desire, perhaps even more agonizing than his first incarnation. As before, now that Thor has begun to touch him, he finds he doesn’t want to let go.

Loki pulls back for breath, panting in a way that Thor finds incredibly appealing. (Has he always felt this way? Perhaps, perhaps not. He finds he isn’t sure of much of anything, anymore...)

“Bold move, brother,” Loki acknowledges, looking more flushed and flustered than Thor can ever remember seeing him. “This way lies madness, you know.”

Thor shrugs, wearing an unabashedly pleased grin at how wrecked Loki looks. _He_ did that. “We’ve been called worse,” he reasons— leans in to kiss at the corner of Loki’s mouth, then bites at the hard angle of his jaw. Loki’s strong fingers clench, pressing hard against his back and shoulder blade.

“If this is all a game, Thor—“ Loki’s voice breaks off, suddenly filled with anxiety. He’s tense once more, like a skittish colt. It will take time to assuage his fears. Get him used to the idea that Thor isn’t just setting him up for a fall. (Whatever this may be… it isn’t that.) They both need to regain trust in the other. Thor looks him in the eyes, gaze flickering down to his lips for a moment. 

“Do I look to be in a gaming mood,” he says, reclaiming his own words, but it is no joke. Loki just stares at him. 

“Why,” he starts. Then stops. Then, “I don’t understand.”

“Maybe there’s nothing to understand,” Thor counters, pressing another kiss just to the side of his brother’s mouth, marveling at the unexpected smoothness of his skin. “Perhaps this is what we were meant to do all along and I was just too foolish and angry to realize.”

“You can’t just do this to— to keep me here,” Loki begins to protest, then makes an incoherent sound as Thor leans in to suck hard at his neck where it meets his collarbone. “Ugh, do you realize how distracting that is, Thor.”

“Absolutely,” Thor replies, giving a soothing lick to the bruise he’d just pulled to the surface. “You keep talking, I’m just going to ignore you and focus on how delicious you taste.”

Loki makes a strangled sound in his throat. “I— oh gods,” he moans as Thor’s hand comes down to squeeze his hip hard, while Thor’s mouth busies itself tracing the muscles of his neck with tongue and teeth.

“What were you saying?” Thor asks innocently, finding it all too easy to take his usual teasing to new, unprecedented heights. To fall back into something far older and more comfortable they used to share between them.

He slides his hand over, runs a questing thumb over the head of Loki’s erection, causing those firm hips to buck against him. Loki hisses and turns his head away, putting the lines of his beautiful neck on display.

Thor has always known his brother had refined, dark features and a strong, lithe build that drew many an eye— but he’s starting to realize how much he’s neglected to appreciate Loki’s appeal, even inseparable as they were for most of their lives. Or perhaps because of it. 

Thor has very nearly considered Loki a part of himself for as long as he can remember, often forgetting where the boundaries between them lay. 

Perhaps it’s time he explored them...

It’s true, Thor has lain with many women and men and others besides over the centuries, and he honestly loved and adored Jane like none before her. But he’d be hard-pressed now to say that any of these former lovers hold a candle to Loki and the depths of sheer agony, the soaring heights of love and loyalty he stirs within Thor. He’d be lying to say any of them felt so desperately, intensely good, merely upon being held in his arms. This emerging desire between them feels somehow ancient, even foretold. For better or worse, nothing else feels like Loki.

Thor realizes he wants more. Much more. The feeling is staggering in its strength.

Loki has noted his silence. “Having second thoughts?” He speaks with a derisive drawl, his defenses coming back up. Thor just shakes his head, grinning. He has an idea.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” He invites, tilting his head forward. Loki hesitates, realizing what is being offered. Of course, Thor realizes— he’s still afraid this is all a trick. So he takes one of Loki’s hands and guides it to his forehead, focusing on his desire.

“Trust me,” he says.

Loki looks at him with dark eyes, seeming to steel himself. “We’ll see.” 

And then they are in Thor’s mind.

_He’s sinking to his knees and unwrapping Loki’s layers of tunics and inner vestments, until Loki is bared to him._

_He’s in awe at the man before him— seeing Loki as if for the first time, yet already knowing his body so intimately. He’s running his hands over the pale, finely muscled stomach with its equally fine, dark trail of hair that leads down from Loki’s navel. The sight and feel of that alone is more than enough to stir him, but even more rousing is the thought of what awaits him below._

_He’s teasing open the laces of the supple leather breeches, a process slightly hindered by Loki’s erection but no less enjoyable for it— Loki’s trembling and gasping under his touch and he thrills at the sound._

_He’s releasing Loki’s cock from its confines, and it arcs toward him like an offering._

_He’s salivating at the thought of tasting the beads of fluid that adorn the tip, just peeking out from his foreskin. So eager to inhale the scent of Loki’s body. He’s holding Loki’s taut, bared hip with one hand while his other wraps around the shaft of his cock, stroking, encouraging the rosy head to emerge fully, shining and beginning to drip with Loki's arousal, and now he’s wetting his lips, leaning in to lick—_

Loki pulls back suddenly, and they’re both breathing hard like they’ve been sparring for hours. For his part, Thor is surprised to find himself still on his feet. He meets Loki’s eyes, unabashed by what he’s shared— for he knows now that it’s the truth— but Loki seems to be unable to reconcile what he’s seen. He wraps his arms around his own torso in the small space between them, as if to keep his hands from seeking Thor’s body.

“How? _How_ can you truly desire me this way,” he challenges, voice harsh, trying to catch his breath. “How is it in the course of mere moments, you can suddenly decide this is what you want…” _while I have agonized for years upon years_ , went the unspoken end of the sentence.

Thor grapples with this. “I don’t know,” he says, honestly. “Only that it seems so plain to me now. You were wrong before— we’ve already been put to the crucible, Loki, long ago. We’re already part of each other, whether we accept it or not. And despite your worry, I believe there is nothing ruined in either of us. Only pride and fear made it seem so.” He slides his hand up to cup Loki’s jaw, stroking a thumb over his cheek, looking into his eyes as if he could reach through to Loki’s innermost thoughts and reassure them. 

“We have always been too close, yet too far.” Thor smiles, fondly. “Perhaps this is what we were always dancing around, and you merely saw it first. As usual.”

“But—“ and Loki seems to be grappling for words. Or perhaps hesitating for worry of reprisal.

“Ask,” Thor urges, reaching down to stroke Loki’s arms, to try and coax him to unfold. “I am not a thing you need fear, Loki.”

Loki swallows hard, wetting his lips. He unwraps his arms from around himself, but he doesn’t touch Thor— instead he holds them stiff at his sides. “Do you truly desire me in this way, or are you so desperate to keep your brother that you would indulge his darkest whims.” His voice hardens. “I would not have your pity, Thor. Nor be in your debt. Nor have you cast me aside once you realize what you’ve done— once everyone realizes what we’ve done.”

“Everyone can go to Hel,” growls Thor, deciding he is definitely _not_ going to dwell on that concern right now. “And you have seen my pity, Loki. You have seen my desperation. Never before did it lead to this.” He puts his hand back upon Loki’s cock, applying firm pressure to prove his point. Watches Loki’s nostrils flare as he tries to hold himself still, and if he knows Loki at all, he can bet his brother’s hands are balling into fists right now. 

“I want you with me, Loki. All of you. As much as you will give me. I don’t ask you to believe me now, only that you allow me time to prove it. Starting with this.”

Thor slowly drops to his knees on the cold stone floor, allowing Loki time to decide. (He’s pleased to see he was right about the fists— Loki wants to touch but won’t let himself.) When he looks back up, however, he’s surprised to see that for once, Loki doesn’t seem to be calculating. In fact, Loki doesn’t seem to be doing much of anything aside from watching him with bated breath, his thin lips swollen with Thor’s kisses and his eyes dark.

“Will you let me?” Thor asks, slowly rubbing Loki’s thigh. He can feel the muscles flex beneath his palm, aches to feel Loki’s warm skin beneath his. Still reeling at the newness of this touch though he is, there’s no doubt in Thor’s mind that this is where he’s meant to be. 

“Loki?” He questions again after a moment of Loki silently staring at him. Loki seems to ruffle himself like a startled bird, then hesitates, pursing his lips. Thor thinks, this is it. This is where I lose him, yet again. 

And yet.

Loki surprises him yet again by giving a slow, regal nod.

“If it is truly your wish,” he murmurs, leaning back on formality, and Thor thrills to hear the barely-contained need in his voice. 

“Indeed it is,” he confirms, reaching up to unwrap Loki’s tunics much the way he’d done in his mind’s eye. Loki slowly assists with undoing the upper hidden clasps of his garments, as if in a daze, then shivers in the warm room as Thor bares his skin. There’s a slight flush rising to his cheeks as Thor’s gaze travels from his face to his cock, then slowly makes its way up his abdomen; appreciating Loki’s quiet strength, the perfect interplay of hardness and softness in his body, before lingering on the large, discolored scar beneath his sternum. 

It steals the desire from him for a moment— and his breath as well. There is the evidence of Loki’s sacrifice, and of Thor’s catastrophic mistake.

“I have wished so many times that I could go back and protect you,” Thor looks up, tells him seriously, running apologetic fingertips over the damaged skin. “I failed you so greatly that day. And many others before. I have never stopped regretting it.” He’s overcome with the need to press a kiss to Loki’s warm abdomen, and another, unable to believe his brother is really, truly alive and here in the flesh. He feels Loki sigh, and so he murmurs against his skin, “I will never fail you like that again, brother.”

When he glances back up, Loki looks to be suddenly on the verge of tears again. “Damn you,” he whispers, mouth spasming at the corners. 

It’s more than Thor can bear to see him so vulnerable. He swiftly rises and draws Loki into a tender, comforting kiss, wrapping him up in his arms as if they were children once more, and he feels Loki shaking against him. 

The next moment, Thor’s tunic and armour have vanished in a golden glimmer, and so have the remainder of Loki’s tunics— they’re standing warmly, chest to chest, and Loki is clutching Thor hard against him, kissing him back with a trembling but determined mouth.

After a few more moments, they pull back and Loki gives a maudlin laugh. “No more of that now,” he commands, a little strength returning to his voice. “If you’re going to make good on your promises then we’ll have to reign in the sentiment.”

Thor laughs, kissing his lips far more playfully as Loki’s sadness recedes, for now. He knows there will need to be a time for that— there is so much they’ve left unsaid, so much he needs to know and to tell— but perhaps right now, what they need is a different kind of medicine.

“As my king commands,” Thor says cheekily. “Don’t you want to tell me to kneel?” 

Loki just _looks_ at him, pupils dilating impossibly wider. Oh yes, he’s got him. “Don’t look so smug, Thunderer,” he snaps, but there’s a thrill in his eyes, and in the slow, subtle grin that follows. “On your knees, then. For Asgard.”

“For Asgard,” Thor agrees, and this time he makes a great show of kissing and teasing Loki’s abdomen on the way down, dipping Loki back so he can run his fingers over each pert nipple, enjoying the squirms and soft whines it elicits from his brother before taking the tight buds into his mouth in turn. He spends some time here, trying to get his own racing heart under control. Feeling Loki’s strong hands squeeze his arms tight, feeling him shudder and hiss and moan when Thor suckles and nips at him. 

“Cocktease,” protests Loki with a growl, after Thor has finally sank down and spent another minute just dipping his tongue beneath the hem of Loki’s trousers, tracing the jut of his hips with his thumbs.

“I didn’t say I was going to make it easy for you,” murmurs Thor against Loki’s abdomen, drawing the flat of his tongue over the dark trail of hair, then blowing softly on it. Loki makes no attempt to hide his shiver.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

Thor meets his eyes for a long moment— a moment in which something seems to click, and they both realize with finality that there’s no going back from this. That everything up until this point could be willfully ignored, or blamed on emotions running high— but this will change everything between them for the rest of their lives.

Thor lets them teeter on the precipice for a long moment, wanting to memorize every detail of Loki’s beautiful, needy face, his fluttering breath and the rise of his chest, before he finally undoes Loki’s breeches. 

No turning back.

_xx_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I would not have you resent me,” Thor cautions, regaining his voice.
> 
> “Ahh,” Loki sighs, “it’s far too late for that.” But his own voice remains light and he is clearly amused. “We have much to resent each other for. But this at least, I promise you, will have quite the opposite effect...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without further ado, here is the porn you are looking for. Please make note of the updated tags! As before, all mistakes are mine. (Except for Loki's mistakes. He can take full responsibility for those.)

_xx_

It feels like taking his first breath.

Kneeling on the stone floor at Loki’s booted feet, feeling those lust-blown eyes staring down at him in anticipation and disbelief, and Bor knows what else.

Savoring the sound of his brother’s long, sibilant inhale as Thor slowly draws his cock out from his breeches, finding him thick and throbbing beautifully under his touch. 

Praising the blood which lends solidity to Loki’s form and a spark to his eye, so Thor can be sure this is truly his brother here, in the flesh, in his hands. Alive. Desirous of him. And him, every bit as desirous in return.

It’s not at all what Thor had expected when he’d dragged Loki in here, seeking answers. But perhaps he should have realized that to prove himself deserving of Loki’s deepest-buried truths, he would have to trade something equally precious— the unmined gems of his own heart. And it was clear now, how very many he had still to unearth...

All his musings about how their entire lives might have been different with a mere twist of Odin’s intentions. His determination to ignore the quiet, inner voice suggesting he allowed Loki to occupy too many of his thoughts, both in life and especially in death; Jane had certainly thought so, by the end. His unexamined need to keep Loki at his side and his unending sorrow at his failure… A sorrow which, until today, had felt nearly as fresh as the day it took hold. As if half his own soul had been left behind in the grey dust of Svartalfheim.

Love seems far too meagre a word; too inadequate. For he's always loved Loki in every way he thought available to him. No, this is something new. Something more.

The evidence is here before his very eyes.

It isn’t the first time Thor has seen his brother erect— for they’ve had a few shared shenanigans with other parties over the centuries— but it’s certainly the first time sober and in daylight, and most definitely the first time Thor has reason and _permission_ to let his gaze linger. To appreciate the perfection in the proportions of his brother’s body. To take Loki’s cock firmly in hand and feel the silken weight of it against his palm, far more satisfying than the handle of any weapon. 

Loki’s hips twitch upward into Thor’s grasp and his hands clutch at the wall behind him, as if his arms were invisibly bound to his sides. He stubbornly maintains eye contact as Thor gives one long, steady lick up the underside of his prick. Thor is gratified to see how Loki’s composure falters, ever so briefly, and devotes himself to making that a more lasting state. He works the base of Loki’s cock with a firm grip as he licks and teases beneath the soft ridge of the crown, then flattens his tongue over the top— savoring the bright salt of his skin. He means to draw it out longer, but a twitch of Loki’s hips spurs him onward. They will have time to go slow later, he hopes.

Thor takes the length of him into his mouth, eager to coat his tongue with the taste of his brother’s sex— the warm, masculine scent of Loki’s skin stirring something deeply primal within him. It’s so unbelievably fulfilling that he can’t help but groan.

Loki clearly tries to bite back his answering moan, but a pained, low sound still manages to escape his throat, to Thor’s delight. He wonders how long it’s been since Loki’s been touched in this way; how many days or months or years since he’s been properly pleasured. His brother, despite his notorious moodiness, has had no lack for lovers of all varied kinds in previous centuries— but he has no doubt spent a great time in solitude, and his body is wracked with a subtle tremor like he’s already being broken apart. It does unspeakable things to Thor. 

He swallows Loki down until his nose is buried in the short, dark curls at the base of his cock, savouring the heaviness on his tongue, feeling it invade his throat as he inhales more of Loki’s scent, finding it even more potent here. This move earns him a surprised hiss, Loki’s hips twitching and tensing beneath him. He makes a rather gratifying “ah!” as Thor pulls back little by little, laving the sensitive underside of his cock with attention. He works his way up until he can swirl his tongue around the head and taste the fresh evidence of his brother’s excitement.

He needs more. They both do.

Thor finds himself teasing Loki with one hand, cupping his velvet-soft scrotum and rolling it in his palm, tracing the seam with his thumb, while the other hand moves to Loki’s hip, holding him with a firm grip. One of Loki’s cool hands comes to fidget at Thor’s bare shoulder. The other hesitantly twines in his hair. Thor holds Loki’s cock between his lips as he tongues the slit and plays along the underside of the head, exploring every little divot and curve and vein, curious to see what will wring the most noise from him, before taking Loki deep into his throat once more.

Loki makes a choked noise and his flanks quiver, as though he’s trying to keep from pushing forward. Thor encourages him, using the hand on Loki’s hip to pull him forward. Urging Loki to thrust into his mouth.

Finally, Loki seems to let go of whatever still holds him back. His hand fists in Thor’s hair and he rests his head against the wall before rolling his hips forward, driving his cock down Thor’s throat with only the slightest of hesitation. Thor gags for just a brief moment and blinks back tears, but still he urges Loki forward. He looks up, knowing he must look a sight, eyes watering with his mouth stretched around Loki’s girth— but it must be a good sight, for Loki just bites his lip as he returns a heated gaze through narrowed eyes, now rocking into Thor with a steady, more controlled rhythm. 

Loki looks absolutely glorious like this, Thor marvels, once again taking in the expanse of muscle and the slight softness of Loki’s stomach below his navel, the sharp v of his abdomen and the proud jut of his hips, the tight breeches hanging off his strong, limber thighs. Now that he’s looked upon his brother with desire, Thor can’t imagine seeing Loki in this state— in any state— and not wanting to possess him. 

Loki pulls back until he’s not occupying Thor’s throat, just resting on his tongue, and Thor swallows hard; is pleased to see Loki’s eyes slide shut like a cat’s, to see his lips part as he finally moans, “ _Thor_ , yes.” And that sends an unbelievable jolt of desire to Thor’s own, neglected erection— he groans unintelligibly around his mouthful of Loki, releasing Loki’s sac to reach down and hurriedly free himself, anything to relieve the pressure just for a blissful moment. 

Loki notices his movement, stares hungrily down at him. “I would taste you as well,” he growls, and Thor _wants_ to argue, he’s not even close to being done yet, but it turns out he isn’t any more immune to that throaty, velvet baritone than he is to the rest of Loki. He slowly pulls back, tears still pricking the corners of his eyes. Swallows once to clear his throat. 

“How would you have me?” He asks, voice rasping around the edges. “What will it take to satisfy both your doubt and your need?”

He finds he is all too willing to submit to Loki’s desires— though he has a feeling that Loki will soon reverse the dynamic, will want Thor to lead him. But he wants his brother to ask for it. 

It seems to be the right question, at any rate, from the look in Loki’s darkened eyes. 

“On the bed,” he says, and Thor detects the slightest hesitation in his voice— this had been their parents’ private chambers, once upon a time. But Thor holds his gaze and nods, once. He makes to rise. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Loki questions in a suspiciously mild tone, just as Thor takes a step toward the bed. At Thor’s questioning glance, he crosses his arms, gestures with his brows toward Mjolnir. It’s hard to imagine how anyone could look so imperious while leaning against a wall, half disrobed with their wet, erect cock hanging out, but Loki manages it with grace. 

Keeping his eyes on Loki, Thor slowly holds out his hand and calls Mjolnir. She feels a comforting weight in his palm— the same palm that mere moments ago held his brother’s cock for the first time. 

“What do you want?” he asks, sensing Loki is withholding. 

Loki drops the nonchalant facade, revealing a visage so hungry, so raw and naked in its intent, that Thor all but shivers, his erection jerking in response. Loki’s grin, when it comes, is nothing short of predatory.

“I want _all_ of us on the bed. You, me, and Mjolnir makes three.” 

There is a pause. One of Loki’s eyebrows raises a fraction as Thor hesitates, trying to game out what his brother intends. 

“What?” Loki chides, pushing off the wall and strolling over, vanishing the rest of their clothing with a dismissive gesture. “After all these centuries of pinning me down with her when it suited your needs, you’re now loathe to serve mine?” 

He trails a hand down Thor’s chest, as if taking the lay of the land, and Thor’s free hand instinctively pulls him in closer, wanting to feel Loki’s naked body against his. “Don’t tell me it’s not an appealing thought, having me at your mercy,” Loki continues, sliding his arms around Thor’s waist until their hips are pressed close, their twin arousals brushing together. Despite his confident tone, his eyes search Thor’s face, urging him to play along.

At that, Thor sucks in a breath. He had nearly laughed in amazement, at the sheer absurdity of it all, but the brazen desire in Loki’s words, in his gaze and his stance— this heady thing that has never before entered their shared glances and jibes, their casual touches, until this day… 

No, laughter is suddenly the furthest thing from his mind.

“I would not have you resent me,” Thor cautions, regaining his voice, only to have it hitch as Loki reaches out and takes his cock in hand for the first time. 

“Ahh,” Loki sighs, “it’s far too late for that.” But his own voice remains light and he is clearly amused at Thor’s favorable reaction to his firm, steady strokes. “We have much to resent each other for. But this at least, I promise you, will have quite the opposite effect.” 

He licks his lips, and Thor’s gaze is drawn to them, but merely to look is not enough. He draws Loki into another kiss, groaning into his brother’s mouth as he feels Loki’s thumb slipping over the head of his erection— he hadn’t realized how wet he’d gotten in his eagerness. A moment later, Loki wraps his long, clever fingers around both of their cocks, manipulating them together with practiced ease. Thor can’t help bucking his hips forward into that teasing grip, biting at Loki’s lower lip.

It isn’t long before their embrace grows taut and aggressive; strong fingers clutching, nostrils flaring, heat rising to their swollen mouths. Sensing his brother’s growing desperation— the frustration evident in the pressure and tempo of his mouth and hands— Thor pulls back just enough to murmur with force; “Get on the bed, Loki.” 

He catches Loki’s wrist, stilling his hand on their cocks, and Loki opens his eyes. There is something serpentine in his green black gaze, so vivid against the pale of his skin and the bitten red of his finely shaped lips. Thor doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so beautiful, or so terrifying for it.

“I didn’t quite catch that,” Loki parries, tilting his head. Coiled intently. Waiting for Thor to show weakness.

Thor steels himself. “Get. On. The _bed_ , Loki.” He says again, a threatening tone entering into his voice.

Loki licks his lips and gives his own cock a long, sensual stroke, heedless of Thor’s hand on his wrist.

“Make me,” he goads.

With a growl, Thor hoists Loki one-handed over his shoulder, enjoying his sudden yelp of surprise, and takes the few strides to the bed. Throws him down hard on his back near the center. Before Loki can recover, Thor’s already set Mjolnir down on the furs and yanked him forward by the ankles. When he releases Loki, his brother’s toes are just barely touching the floor. Only his upper body is still on the bed, buttocks and hips almost sliding off the edge, which only serves to accentuate the bold arc of his cock. 

Thor straightens, holds Loki’s gaze as he sets Mjolnir on his sternum. Loki flushes from his cheeks to his chest, which would be heaving if not for the sudden weight upon it. His long, white-knuckled fingers grip the edge of the bed.

“Such strength,” he taunts, but now Thor knows how much this must thrill him. He doesn’t react to Loki’s goading, simply moves back to stand and observe. Enjoys the heightened definition of the muscles in Loki’s thighs; a consequence of being forced to remain on his toes. Watches his cock jerk slightly, a translucent bead of precome beginning to drip down the shaft. Wonders at all the previous times he’d used the hammer to pin Loki. If perhaps they’d had a similar effect on his brother even then, beneath his layers of concealing armor. For why else would he now seek out such treatment… 

“Well?” Loki prompts after a moment of silence, sounding slightly out of breath.

“I’m just thinking of how long I should leave you here.” Thor muses, trailing calloused fingertips lightly over Loki’s inner thigh. Those long, pale fingers clutch tighter at the bedcovers. 

“Oh?” Loki looks off to the side, avoiding his gaze, tone far too nonchalant to be genuine. “I suppose you have other things to see to.” He’s belied by the quiver of his abdomen, another twitch of his heavy erection. 

“Perhaps I’ll give you something to remember me by,” Thor reasons— he’s not an unkind lover, after all. He enjoys the anticipatory shift in Loki’s breath as he sinks down to his knees once more, out of Loki’s line of sight. Thor licks hotly up his inner thigh, right where he’d stroked just a moment before.

Loki shudders. “How gracious of you,” he gasps while Thor licks and teases, studiously avoiding Loki’s cock. He does this for a good many minutes— attending to Loki’s thighs with tongue and teeth and the scratch of short nails, with the calloused pads of his fingers, listening intently to his brother groaning through gritted teeth— then arises and steps back to survey his handiwork.

Loki is trembling hard and panting, a pink tinge to his cheeks and a wildness about his face, dark waves of hair splayed against the rich gold and amber of the furs and the bedclothes. His rigid cock is flushed and slick, the wet of his arousal dripping onto one pale leg. Even without Thor instructing him, he’s kept his hands at his sides, still clutching the bed with white knuckles, the corded muscle of his forearms framing the scene. Pinned in place by Mjolnir, he’s slowly writhing his hips, as if unable to keep himself from seeking some kind of friction.

It’s easily one of the most erotic scenes Thor has ever laid eyes upon.

He moves in, still ignoring Loki’s cock, and stands between Loki’s legs— folding one of them up until his foot rests on the edge of the bed.

“Hello, brother,” he says, all nonchalance, as he brushes his fingertips across Loki’s entrance, ever so briefly.

Loki instantly arcs his back as much as Mjolnir allows and makes a sudden, longing, breathless moan, his muscles clenching, then clears his throat abruptly as if to mask his reaction. 

“I suppose you think you’ve earned a reward,” he says, tone sharp but voice rough, clearly abashed by his heightened reactions— his vocalizations which echo in the quiet chamber. It takes him a moment longer than usual to meet Thor’s eyes, though he’s as confrontational as ever once he does.

Thor can’t help a fond grin, running the backs of his knuckles along Loki’s sac, enjoying the shivers it induces in his brother. He appreciates that Loki, ever sensitive and high-strung, is equally responsive in this manner. “If my king declares it so,” he teases, “then who am I to argue?” 

Loki’s eyes narrow as Thor takes his own cock in hand, his arousal not having waned in the slightest, and runs the head along Loki’s inner thigh. Loki shivers, looking caught between an urge to beg and an urge to fight. 

Thor decides to be generous and give him both. 

“I suppose,” he draws out the words, “that I _could_ bring you to completion before I leave you...” 

Loki doesn’t reply, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“But, if I’m being honest,” Thor continues, finding he’s enjoying this far too much, “I would far prefer to push my tongue inside you until you beg to be filled with something larger. And then perhaps, once you’re writhing on my cock and howling my name… _then_ , I might be inclined to let you come, dear brother.”

Loki tries to act disaffected but his body doesn’t lie— Thor sees how instantly he flushes hot in his cheeks and chest, his cock jerking at the aural stimulation. “I’d be surprised if you managed to hold out that long,” he sneers, breath short, clearly surprised that Thor is giving as good as he takes in terms of filthy speech.

 _There’s a lot you don’t know about me_ , Thor thinks smugly. He drops to his knees yet again— it’s a wonder he keeps bothering to stand— and takes hold of Loki’s other ankle, bringing his bare foot up to rest on Thor’s shoulder, exposing the tender, dusky skin between his thighs. Unlike Thor, he is surprisingly smooth everywhere south of his cock, nothing that would obscure Thor’s view of his anatomy— and oh, what pleasing anatomy it is. Thor’s cock fills even more at the sight of Loki’s entrance, soft and all too inviting. 

He takes a moment to collect himself the gravity of the situation seems to settle upon his shoulders once more, though it is no more a deterrent now than before.

“Say something,” Loki speaks suddenly, words lined with tension, and Thor realizes he’s been staring— remembers his brother’s need for reassurance in words.

“What would you like to hear?” Thor teases, nipping at Loki’s thigh where it meets the curve of his buttock. “That you look so good I can’t decide where to put my mouth first?”

“That’s a start,” Loki replies, unimpressed and dry, but his hands are clenching the bed once more. He wiggles just slightly, tense, then seems to give in and perches his other foot atop Thor’s unoccupied shoulder, giving Thor all the access he could possibly need. 

Thor grins in satisfaction, giving Loki’s thigh another nip, then soothing it with his tongue. He begins to knead Loki’s arse with his thumbs, letting them slowly drift towards the rise on either side of his entrance, teasing him open without touching anywhere too sensitive. After a moment or two, Loki starts to relax again, fractionally. Thor picks that moment to press his mouth to the underside of Loki’s sac peeking through his legs, enjoying the velvety feel against his mouth, licking firmly along the seam.

Loki makes an unintelligible noise and his hips stutter and jerk. He does it again when Thor’s lips trail downward and he licks the skin between Loki’s legs with the flat of his tongue. He swears under his breath when Thor’s tongue reaches his rim, tracing wet lines over his soft, sensitive flesh. He can hear Loki panting, feel his shivers, hear his fingers clenching and unclenching in the bedcovers— Thor can’t remember the last time he felt this alive, this powerful, and yet completely and utterly spellbound. 

“Ah, gods,” Loki bites out as Thor laps at him, muscles slowly relaxing under his ministrations. “More.”

Thor just grins, teasingly poking his tongue forward as if to penetrate, before withdrawing. “That’s not a polite way to ask.”

“Bor’s blood, Thor.”

“I want a ‘please.’”

Loki huffs, half-heartedly shoves at Mjolnir. “Please, oh _please_ , mighty Thunderer— take pity on unworthy, little old me.”

“That doesn’t sound very sincere,” Thor murmurs, before fucking his tongue into Loki’s ass. 

He’s ready this time for the reaction— holds Loki’s hips firmly in place so his brother has no choice but to writhe ineffectually, gasping and trying not to vocalize as Thor repeatedly thrusts his tongue further inside, opening him up.

“Nghhh! Thor—!” comes the bitten-off cry, and Thor draws back to lick at his rim once, twice, before goading him.

“Say please, remember?”

A growl. “Curse you, Odinson.” 

Thor just laughs, taking his ankles in hand and rising to get a better look at him. Loki’s face is full of glorious, desperate rage— and his need is far past the point of disguise. Thor lets him pull his ankles free, trying not to grin too obviously as Loki suddenly remembers how very little purchase he has for his feet, braced as he is with his hips on the very edge of the bed. He’d be sliding to the floor if it wasn’t for Mjolnir. His thigh and abdomen muscles are taut and will soon start trembling. It only seems to add to his ire, or perhaps to his desire.

Thor slowly wets two fingers in his mouth, holding eye contact as he pulls them out.

“What do you want, Loki,” he murmurs, voice low and husky as he anticipates what he’s about to do. Loki is clearly anticipating too.

“For you to deliver on your promises, _brother_ ,” he retorts, voice rough but no less sharp for it. “If you think you can.”

Thor smirks, moves to part Loki’s knees, but Loki resists. Thor looks up, raises an eyebrow, before slowly, deliberately wrenching his legs open. Loki’s thigh muscles shake and his eyes light up as he tries to hold fast— he’s enjoying every moment of this, the sneaky cur.

Thor gives his fingers another good suck before pressing the first to Loki’s entrance, teasing with light pressure. “Try to stop me,” he challenges, pushing in to the second knuckle before Loki has a chance to respond.

This time he gets to watch from above as Loki’s eyes roll back slightly and his mouth parts in a silent gasp, back arching as much as Mjolnir will allow. Thor for his part nearly groans at the sight of Loki splayed out at his mercy— of his finger disappearing inside his brother, at the feel of his body, hot and eager. He suddenly wants to fuck Loki so badly it scares him.

Pushing off those thoughts, Thor quickly sets a brisk pace, fingering Loki with enthusiasm and watching his control slipping further, the gasps escaping him becoming louder and more insistent. He wonders if Loki had the forethought to create a barrier for the sound— a perverse part of him somewhat hopes he didn’t.

When he deems Loki ready, Thor spits on his digits then slips a second finger in beside the first. He’s instantly rewarded with a throaty groan that sounds as if it were ripped from his brother by force.

“Ah, fuck, Thor,” Loki grits his teeth. “Oh yes, there, there—“ and his words are overtaken by a sharp cry as Thor finally deigns to brush over the soft little mound that he knows will shoot sparks of white hot pleasure throughout Loki’s body. 

“What was that?” Thor teases mercilessly as he continues to thrust smoothly, each time stroking his fingers over Loki’s most sensitive spot. “I didn’t quite hear you.” He can see Loki trying harder and harder to tamp down on his reactions, his jaw thrust forward as he breathes heavily through gritted teeth. Thor knows he’s attempting to remain aloof but the effect is just the opposite— he looks all the more wild and wrecked, about to lose control of both his temper and his ecstasy. Thor has seen a similar look on him before, in rage and in madness, but never has it held such sordid promise.

“Give me more or stop wasting my time,” Loki grits out, and Thor knows he’s trying to find the loopholes to exploit— to beg without begging. He still hasn’t touched Loki’s cock this whole time they’ve been on the bed, and he can tell how desperately Loki wants to come. But Thor wants to be inside him when he does.

“I don’t suppose you’re ready enough to take me,” Thor challenges, giving his own neglected cock some much-needed attention as he continues to torment Loki. “You’re tighter than an Alfheim princess, you’re going to need more than what I can provide to ease the way.”

He does pull a surprised laugh out of Loki at that, and a look that could even be described as fond.

“If it’s oil you require,” Loki trails off, and then with a shimmer of gold, there’s a vial in his upturned left hand. “Then oil you shall have.”

Thor pauses in his ministrations to take the bottle, uncorking it with one hand and coating his fingers, then his cock. As soon as he’s recapped it, it vanishes back to whatever bizarre dimension Loki has designed to store his toilette. 

“Handy,” he notes, trying not to think overmuch about all the uses that oil might have seen, as he slips his fingers even more easily back into Loki and is given a pleased sigh for his efforts. “Let’s see what you can take, then.”

“Anything you could think to give me and then some,” Loki retorts, playing at being unimpressed. So Thor gives him three fingers and gets a proper cry for his efforts. When Loki’s panting has finally plateaued once more, he pulls free and lines his cock at Loki’s swollen rim— soft and pink and all Thor’s for the taking. He feels Loki go still in anticipation.

But something isn’t right. 

Thor pauses, realizes. 

He calls her with his non-oily hand, and Loki sucks in a surprised gasp as the hammer’s weight on his sternum is released, sliding forward into Thor’s hips without the counterweight to anchor him.. He looks to Thor, almost frowning.

“Intimidated by your own hammer?” He quips, an injured sharpness to his tone. “Or just changed your mind after all?”

“Nothing so terrible,” Thor pushes on Loki until he sits up and shifts back on the bed, making more room for Thor to climb on next to him. “I just want to feel you.” He sets Mjolnir on the floor and takes the space offered him.

Loki raises his brows. “Should have known you’d be sentimental.”

Thor shrugs with a grin, leaning in to press a kiss to the redness on Loki’s chest where the hammer had pinned him, so close to his terrible scar. “Call it what you want,” he replies, angling up to mouth at Loki’s neck, just below his ear. “But I’m not the only one.”

He wraps his oil-slicked hand around Loki’s erection, sits back just enough to watch his brother all but convulse in pleasure. “You want me this way, then you play by my rules,” Thor cautions him, rippling his fingers over the sticky-slick skin. “There’s a time for games but this is something else, Loki.”

His stills his hand, abruptly. Loki meets his eyes, looking suspicious and unsure. “What would you ask of me,” he queries, a frown tugging at the sharp corners of his mouth.

Thor’s eyes search his face. 

“Trust me,” he says, finally. “Trust that if I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.”

Loki makes a strange grimace, as if he’s unsure how to respond, so Thor leans in and kisses him; slowly, sensually. No urgency to his movements— he can be as patient as necessary. Loki has gone stiff again, but after a few moments he seems to melt a little and relax back into Thor’s embrace, canting his hips as Thor slowly strokes him once more. 

A quiet mood descends, broken only by the soft sounds of their lips and tongues meeting, and their soft breathing and the rustle of the furs, and the tiny slick sounds of Thor’s hand caressing Loki’s cock. A minute creeps by, then another, and Thor thinks that perhaps _this_ is the moment he wants to last forever. 

“Why are you doing this,” Loki breathes against his lips when they finally pull back. 

“Doing what?” Thor responds, leaning in to kiss his neck. Loki shudders. 

“I hope you know I don’t expect _romance_ , Thor,” he chides, a disdainful tone entering his voice. “That was never what this was about.” And here he pauses, uncertain, looking away and fidgeting with the bedcovers. “I say this only so you don’t feel you must…”

“...that I must care?” Thor asks lightly, sitting back and trying not to let on that it stings a bit to hear— that Loki had evidently imagined Thor would either violently reject him, or merely use his flesh and then discard him like nothing had ever happened. Even if it _was_ somehow tied into the fantasies he’d alluded to… from everything Thor has seen, Loki clearly longs for far more than that.

“Are you not worth my care?” He presses, trying to get Loki to meet his eye. He’s successful, after a moment, but Loki only looks lost. 

“I’d prefer to think of it as not getting too comfortable,” he demurs, sitting up and reaching out to Thor. “Now, weren’t you about to make good on some of your foolish promises?”

Thor laughs, letting Loki attempt to distract him by means of manual attentions to his erection. He can sense that perhaps, now is not the right moment to push. Perhaps instead of telling Loki, he should simply continue to show him… 

“Your evasions have grown obvious,” he scolds fondly, not stopping Loki from pushing him onto his back. And then before he can say anything else, Loki has gotten his earlier wish— taking Thor into his mouth with a pleased sound. 

Thor groans unabashedly, feeling Loki’s tongue caress his cockhead, playing with him, before slipping further down the shaft. His head is swimming as he rises up slightly, leans back on his elbows and observes Loki’s face bent low over him, hair tucked back and to the side— the sight and feel of his brother so avidly sucking his cock is yet another thing he never could have prepared himself for. But Norns, is it ever incredible.

Loki shoots him a sidelong look of mischief and Thor instinctively braces himself for the worst, then turns boneless when Loki winks and swallows him down to the base in one smooth motion.

Thor can’t help the unintelligible utterance of praise that escapes him. It’s all he can do to not thrust into the tight wetness of Loki’s throat. Loki pulls back, then repeats the motion, and Thor’s hips buck nigh-uncontrollably into that indescribable sensation. This time Loki chokes on him slightly and Thor moans at the feeling of his throat spasming, before realizing what that means.

“Sorry!” He holds himself still as Loki pulls back, coughing. “I didn’t mean to.”

But Loki’s eyes are glinting with more than just tears when he looks back at Thor. He looks inordinately pleased with himself. “Oh, but I think you did,” he licks his lips. “I think you’d love nothing more than to fuck my mouth right now and get your little revenge for my use of you earlier. You’d love to feel me choke on your cock again and again, wouldn’t you?” 

Thor, to his horror, actually blushes at the delightfully obscene image. And at the knowledge that despite his phrasing, it’s so clearly what Loki _himself_ desires.

Loki is grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Though I do enjoy having you helpless beneath me, I think you’d best rise to your knees.” He gives Thor’s thighs a tap, another teasing tug on his erection. Thor swallows down a groan, makes himself obey. He almost can’t keep up with his brother— switching as he is between aggression and pliant submission— but Loki is Loki and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“You still want me to hold you in place,” he murmurs, not quite a question, as he rises to his knees, sitting back on his heels. Loki looks up, grinning again in mischief. He’s on his knees as well, but his palms are touching the blankets. Thor’s eyes roam over the spill of his hair and his muscled back, extending long and pale, narrowing at the waist before it meets the twin swells of his ass. 

“You’re welcome to try— “ Loki begins to goad, but Thor strikes before he can say any more, gripping him by the back of the head and thrusting two fingers into his mouth, the heel of his palm flush against Loki’s chin.

“Quiet now, Loki. Suck them like a good boy and then you’ll get your reward,” Thor teases, not entirely serious, but it’s instantly clear from Loki’s reaction— eyes glazed, cheeks flushed, mischief replaced by moans— that he wants more. So Thor gives it to him.

“Just like that, so good, Loki,” he murmurs, still thrilling at the notion of saying his brother’s name in such a way. He slips his fingers smoothly in and out between Loki’s lips, feeling Loki’s wily tongue undulate beneath them. The suction of his lips make Thor ache to touch himself. “My clever brother. You want me to give you my cock so badly, don’t you?”

Loki’s eyes slide shut, as if overwhelmed, and Thor lets him suck at his fingers just a little longer before drawing back and taking his own cock in hand, spreading Loki’s saliva over the cockhead, mixing it with his precome. “Do you think you’ve earned it yet?” He teases softly, dragging the head over Loki’s cheek as he tightens his other hand in Loki’s hair.

Loki looks up and his eyes have gone nearly black once more. “No,” he says, in a rough, low voice that sends shivers through Thor. “Never. But you should do it anyway.”

Thor drags his cock over Loki’s lips, watching them part ever so slightly in eagerness. “I disagree,” he says, lowly. “I think you’ve earned every inch. Now open your mouth for me.”

Loki looks so terribly turned on that Thor almost feels guilty for preying on his brother’s darkest desires in this way. But if they’re going to go down in history as deviants, they may as well go together.

Thor slides his cock into Loki’s willing mouth, gripping his head firmly as he thrusts forward from the hips, holding Loki steady. Loki’s eyes slide shut and he moans, the sound altered by the thick phallus invading his throat once more. He’s ready this time, doesn’t choke.

“Yes, just like that, Loki,” Thor praises, smoothing back the waves of dark hair as he rocks his hips forward in a rolling motion. “You look so good bent over, taking my cock.” Thor lets his eyes trail over Loki’s defined back once more. Envisions his hands spanning that trim waist. His hips coming to pump against that glorious, beautiful ass, making the one truly plump part of him wobble and shake, anchored by the strong muscle beneath. It’s a good image— too good, in fact.

Thor pulls back a bit, both in mind and body, watching the saliva drip from the corners of Loki’s mouth as he gasps for breath. Stares mesmerized as that pink tongue darts out to lick his lips clean just for a moment before Loki swallows him down again, taking him as deep as he can. He tugs at Thor’s hips until Thor begins to fuck his mouth again, steady and smooth, groaning at the feel of his tight, hot throat; running his hand along Loki’s jaw and neck, feeling so unbelievably turned on.

Still, it’s not _quite_ what Loki had described earlier, and Thor decides to give him what he’s after— hoping he’s not making a grave mistake. 

“Mm, I think you want more, don’t you?” He growls, pulling Loki’s head toward him as he thrusts harder than before. Loki chokes on the sudden movement, eyes squeezing shut as tears begin to leak from their corners. Thor anticipated this, but he still pulls back instinctively, worry gripping him for a moment.

“Well, don’t stop _now_ , brother,” Loki chides, blinking back tears and looking up at Thor in annoyance. “It was just getting good.”

Thor laughs, breathlessly, before gripping Loki by the hair and doing it again, cursing softly at the incredible sensation. It feels terrible to use him this way (and worse, to enjoy it), but Loki hasn’t pulled away, a rosy flush spreading from his chest to his upper back. Tears are streaming down his cheeks, mixing with the saliva leaking from the corners of his mouth. His nostrils flare as he sucks in breath between Thor’s thrusts, and his hands are fisted in the bedclothes as he makes himself into a vessel.

“Is this what you’ve craved, brother?” Thor asks, genuine awe in his voice. “Kneeling before me, taking my cock? You’ve wanted to submit to me for so long, haven’t you.”

Loki looks up, a flash of something like anger in his eyes, but Thor is starting to recognize this aspect of Loki manifesting itself in the bedroom— the desire to spar with real blades, ones that cut. To push himself to the limits. Thor can handle him like this; give him the combat he needs. He grinds harder down Loki’s throat, making Loki bring up a hand to halfheartedly push against his hip, though the rest of him looks no less eager than a moment ago. 

Thor laughs when he realizes what’s going on.

“Ah, you want to pretend I’m _forcing_ you to take it... but we both know better, don’t we, Loki?” He all but croons, thrusting into that hot, pliant throat, exhilarated at the trust Loki is showing him. “You could stop me at any time, but you won’t. You _want_ this. You want me to hold you down and make you beg for mercy, hoping you won’t get it.”

A shiver runs down Loki’s back and he moans, which makes him choke and spasm again on Thor’s cock. Thor feels the tightening in his groin, the arrow being nocked. He’s getting close. “You want to swallow me down, don’t you, brother?” He runs a thumb over Loki’s lips, feels his cock sliding between them, the saliva dripping down Loki’s chin. “You want me to mark you as mine?”

Loki looks up at him wretchedly and that’s all the answer Thor needs. He groans, feeling his orgasm mounting further at the sight, the _feel_ of his cock penetrating that wicked, dangerous, beautiful mouth he knows and loves so well. 

“Nghhh, you’re so good, Loki.”

He watches, enraptured, as Loki’s eyes slide shut, and then he makes this desperate, high-pitched whine that Thor finds unspeakably arousing, swallowing hard around the cock in his mouth, and Thor is so unbearably close, and Loki’s eyes open and it’s clear he knows _exactly_ how little it would take to tip Thor over the edge.

Thor grasps his hair tightly and groans, “Norns, you’re beautiful—ah, Loki, yes— “

That’s as far as he gets before Loki pulls back ever so slightly, looks him straight in the eye, and sucks _hard_. Thor is helpless to look away as his orgasm hits him like a punch to the gut, each pulse ripping the breath from his lungs as he comes hard into that hot, willing throat, as he all but drowns in pleasure. Drowns in Loki. 

His brother. 

Oh Norns, his own _brother_. 

Thor is flooded with a shock of strange ecstasy— watching through a blissful haze as Loki eventually pulls back to catch the last of his spend on his tongue. Dark, glimmering green eyes close to slits and Thor is held spellbound as Loki slowly unfurls himself from his crouch, rising to his knees and leaning back on his heels. He luxuriously works his cock as he wipes his chin with the other hand and licks his lips clean. 

He doesn’t wipe away the tears, Thor notices, though the thought comes as if from a great distance.

“You mentioned a reward?” Loki taunts, as wry as ever, though the roughness of his voice stands testament to how eagerly he swallowed Thor’s cock down. 

The sound is unspeakably arousing.

“I believe I did,” Thor says once he’s regained his own ability to speak, the effervescent warmth of afterglow filling every inch of him. He reaches out to wipe the tears from Loki’s cheeks with his thumb. “Shall I remind you of how generous I can be?”

Loki scrutinizes him for the briefest of moments, before ducking out of his grasp, sprawling back on the bed against the veritable mountain of cushions, long legs falling apart as he resumes stroking himself. He can’t seem to hide the small, triumphant smile that curls his mouth, and Thor thrills to know Loki is so pleased by him. He takes the invitation spelled out by Loki’s body, crawling forward until he’s between his brother’s legs, close enough to feel Loki’s breath.

Thor doesn’t speak, just captures Loki’s lips and demands entry into his mouth— he’s not disappointed when Loki’s tongue slips against his and the taste of his seed is upon it. 

_Mine_ , he thinks, with a ferocity that startles him, even despite his earlier words. He must have made some sound, for Loki pulls back with a questioning hum.

“Mine,” Thor repeats. “Tell me that’s what you are.”

Loki meets him with that half mad, feral gaze, eyes still shining wetly. “Why should I?” He rasps, barely louder than a whisper. 

Thor grips the back of his neck, stroking a thumb over that elegant throat. “Because it’s the truth. You have always been mine. I need… I need to hear it.”

Loki looks at him then with unmistakable love and sorrow, all intensity for a few seconds before his expression ebbs into something subtler— Thor knows he’s broken through, if only for a brief moment.

He thinks back to the skiff on Svartalfheim, Loki all but pinned beneath him as Thor moved to strike him. Remembers the rage fading when Loki had looked up at him in this very same way— at once filled with all the adoration and longing and deep, deep sadness that can only come with centuries of joy and pain at each other’s side. 

And now— now he knows the exact epiphany Loki was having in that moment. 

Thor is overcome with a feeling too immense to be named. “You have always been mine and I have always been yours,” he repeats, voice hitching. “ _Always_ , Loki. Before I even knew what it meant.”

Loki’s mouth quirks just slightly as the raw emotion is smoothed from his face, the teasing grin reappearing, as if sensing Thor needs his strength now, or else risk falling into a mire of emotion once more. “Then no more talk,” he insists. “Show me.”

Thor can’t resist kissing him once more, putting his hand over the one still resting on Loki’s cock, which has softened ever so slightly during the brief interlude. Thor strokes him once more to full hardness, drinking up the sight of Loki’s face as he does— his stubborn brother always fighting to feign boredom, to hide his pleasure when he has the presence of mind. Always so proud.

He sinks back on his knees and pulls a cushion down until it’s positioned under Loki’s hips, then holds out his other hand, palm up. It takes Loki a moment to register, and then the vial of oil dutifully reappears in Thor’s grasp. He coats his first two fingers and sets it aside, catching Loki’s eye.

Loki tilts his chin down, a partial nod, and Thor holds their gaze as he sinks down, presses a rough kiss to the inside of Loki’s knee where it flows into his thigh, then moves his hand into position. Loki’s body is somewhat relaxed from Thor’s earlier ministrations, but his muscles still clamp tight around Thor’s fingers as he presses back into him.

Loki breathes in slowly, chest rising and falling as he reclines back on his elbows, as regal as a sphinx. And even more unknowable at times, Thor thinks, as he strokes Loki’s cock in time with the slow thrust of his fingers. But he’ll get there. They have time. 

Even as he thinks this, he can see Loki growing impatient. 

“You already prepared me well enough before,” he gripes. “I’m not a delicate twig.” 

Thor has to laugh at the perfect set-up. “Nor am I,” he reminds his brother. “Trust me, you’ll thank me for this in a moment.”

Loki chews at his lower lip, seemingly torn between desire and aggravation. “It’s more than enough,” he counters, fingers burrowing into the bedclothes, his muscles clenching around Thor’s digits for a brief moment. Thor can’t help a stifled moan at the silken heat of him. 

He wants to be inside Loki so badly it alarms him, just as before when the feeling first took hold of him. Thor has often been given to sudden passions, but this feels like something he should have known all along. And thus it consumes him with a terrifying ease.

If Thor didn’t know better, he might think he were under some compulsion, but his head is clear— _finally_ clear, for what seems like the first time in centuries. And daunting though it is, Thor has never been one to shy from a challenge. Especially a challenge involving his brother.

He slowly withdraws his fingers from Loki, reaching for the oil and coating his own cock liberally. He’s already hard and ready to go again. Loki rolls his eyes at the amount of oil, wrapping his legs around Thor’s hips and pulling him closer.

“Patience, Loki,” Thor cocks an eyebrow. “Part of me thinks you _want_ this to hurt.”

Loki scoffs, but he doesn’t quite manage or care to hide how his pupils have blown dark, how something in his bearing seems to shift. “Please,” he says with a dismissive huff. “You’re insultingly genteel.”

Thor doesn’t say anything, just gives Loki a penetrating stare as he continues to work his own slicked length. “Whatever you say,” he plays along, voice light, and Loki seems to coil tighter, like he’s desperate to admit something but won’t allow himself. 

Thor gives him an innocent grin, leaning down to align himself with Loki. The long legs wrapped around Thor’s hips slide up to his waist as Loki gives him better access, and Thor reaches down to pull him closer until they are nearly snug together and all that remains is to…

Thor has to take a moment. 

This is… well. 

Each small step leading to this moment has felt like entering a new realm of previous impossibility. Whereas this feels _world-shattering_ ; the thought of crossing this final boundary between brothers and beyond. The thought of joining their bodies in such a way that Thor is certain will leave them irreparably altered. He can tell Loki feels it too, despite trying to pretend this is no more than a casual, friendly encounter. 

The sudden tension between them is humming, alive under Thor’s skin; not unlike the strange, elemental feeling he gets when he calls forth the lightning. But unlike Mjolnir, Thor isn’t made of uru. Hasn’t been forged in the depths of a dying star. He is just a man with a storm trapped in his chest, and his brother at the very heart of it.

“Loki,” Thor says, mouth dry. 

Loki slowly meets his eyes, and for a moment, he looks vulnerable again. _Young_. A small hesitant frown upon his brow, his lips. So full of desire he almost seems scared— but Thor knows it’s not him Loki fears. Not really. 

“Please, Thor,” is all he says, voice almost wavering, and Thor feels his heart squeeze so tightly it could burst. 

He lines himself at Loki’s entrance and holds one pale hip firmly, holding Loki’s gaze as he begins to guide himself inside. Loki tenses for a moment before visibly willing himself to relax. Thor doesn’t take his eyes from Loki’s face. He wants to see every little play of emotion, every shiver and tremor that runs through him. This moment will live inside him for eternity.

Loki gasps as he slides in deeper, and then, a long breath later, Thor bottoms out and they’re joined together more deeply, more completely than ever before. Thor is reeling at the tightness, the heat of him, the pleasure singing through his body, his mind chanting _LokiLokiLoki_ over and over. 

Loki looks similarly affected, a pink flush having returned to his cheeks and chest. He’s breathing heavier and Thor can _feel_ his pulse from the inside.

“Norns,” he curses, and Loki gives a slightly hysterical laugh.

“What are you waiting for,” he says, in a far more assured voice that sends pure liquid pleasure down Thor’s spine. “Fuck me, already.”

“With pleasure,” Thor growls, and he gives Loki a good, solid thrust, just to see how he reacts. 

Beautifully, it turns out. Loki bites his lip and his eyes slide half shut as he arcs up underneath Thor, white fingers clutching the bed. 

“More, gods give me more,” he half moans, half growls, and Thor gives a lusty groan of his own as he begins to fuck Loki in earnest, holding his hips tight as he slams into him. He couldn’t go slow and gentle now if he wanted. 

Loki makes the most arousing sounds as Thor forces the breath from him with each hard thrust— a delicious litany of moans and grunts and wails, of praise and curses. Thor drinks them all in, thinking he might go mad from the pleasure Loki’s body is giving him; the look on Loki’s face, alternating between wide-eyed ecstasy and tightly-bound tension, and above all, _awe_. He looks at Thor with such reverence that Thor could weep.

He grinds his hips into Loki, rolling them together, and Loki arcs up again like he’s been shocked. 

“Yes, more. Please, Thor,” he gasps, desperation slurring his words together. “ _Fuck_.”

Thor groans again, leaning in closer so he can smell the fresh sweat starting to bead on Loki’s torso, mixing with his usual scent of leather and the earthy spice of his hair oil. He keeps up the pace as he drops his lips to Loki’s collarbones and laps at the sticky skin, Loki’s arms coming up to clutch him closer.

“You feel so good,” the words fall from his lips in a rush as he buries his face in the crook of Loki’s neck, in the blessed darkness of his hair. “Oh gods, Loki, you’re so—”

Loki hisses, body clenching tighter around him inside and out. “Tell me,” he demands, voice low and rough. “ _Tell me_ , Thor.”

Thor pulls back to press a desperate, open kiss to Loki’s mouth, unable to find the words. He pulls back panting after a moment, rocking his hips forward as steady as he can. The cacophony of pleasure and emotion is almost excruciating, almost more than he knows what to do with.

“Loki, you—” he starts, then has to stop, because he can’t speak and stare at Loki at the same time. The sight of his brother beneath him, debauched and glassy-eyed, pink-cheeked and breathless. He’s never known this secret part of Loki before, and it strikes him so intensely with unbearable love and sorrow and need that he can barely breathe.

Loki, for his part, looks on the verge of tears and Thor both wants to see them fall and wants to kiss them away— kiss Loki until neither of them can think— for surely thinking has never done them any good, if they’d only listened to their instincts, then maybe— 

“Loki,” he suddenly finds the words. “Don’t leave me, brother. Don’t ever leave me. Stay with me. I can’t lose you again, please. Stay.”

Loki’s eyes grow wide and wild, their beautiful sea-green swallowed by the growing dark of his pupils. His parted lips are dark red and swollen from their kisses and his breath seems to stutter, then quicken ever more.

“Make me,” he says, and Thor loses his damn mind. 

He kisses Loki hard, reaching back to hitch Loki’s hips up higher until he’s bent him nearly double, angling down until Loki is nearly wailing, brokenly calling out with each urgent thrust.

Thor reaches for his wrists, holds them fast above Loki’s head with one hand, clutching Loki’s hip with the other. Loki’s eyes roll back as they slide shut, and he grits his teeth. Thor can smell the arousal pouring off him, off both of them, feels they’re both coming to the end but it feels too soon, he can’t lose this, can’t ever lose this.

“What will it take,” he manages to ask, and Loki’s eyes open to meet his again, narrow and intent. 

“You don’t understand,” he grits out, gasping as Thor grinds down into him. “Nothing will ever be enough.”

“Nothing?” Thor counters, pulling back suddenly. Loki makes to protest, but Thor grasps him by the hips and rolls him before he can say anything, flipping him onto his stomach and settling back between his legs. Loki gives a sharp laugh as Thor presses him down with hands on his waist, ass in the air. The cushion is now under Loki’s groin, his cock being pressed into it. 

“What’s your plan?” Loki challenges with a haughty tone, now that he’s not actively being fucked senseless. Thor lines his cock up once more, feeling a tremble run through Loki’s haunches.

“Hold you down and fuck you until you can’t even think of moving,” Thor says, honestly, and enters his brother in one hard push.

This time Loki all but caterwauls, arcs up hard against him, but Thor fucks him powerfully enough to subdue, pressing harder on his waist. But it’s not enough, he wants to be touching Loki everywhere— and after a few more moments, he leans forward and covers his brother with his body, arms wrapping under Loki’s armpits, hands curling up to grasp his shoulders from beneath. Holding him close, feeling as the movement of his hips sends shocks through Loki that then travel right back into him. 

Thor lowers his face with a moan, biting down on Loki’s shoulder. Pins him and ruts into him like an animal, panting into his hair.

Loki is breathing harsh and fast, growling, whining, burning hot beneath him— their skin sticking and sliding in turns as Thor takes him, and takes him, enjoying the feel of Loki’s arse pressed against his pelvis with each movement. He’s not sure he can hold out for too much longer, but he’s determined to make Loki come before he spills his own seed again.

“You’re not going anywhere, are you?” He murmurs low into Loki’s ear. “I’ve got you right where you want to be. Admit it. You want to be mine. All mine to love. All mine to fuck.”

“Ohh,” Loki suddenly bites down on his moan. “Oh gods, Thor,” and Thor can feel him trembling, bears down on him harder. Loki cries out as if in agony, trying to writhe beneath Thor’s weight. “Oh right there, oh gods, it’s too much, it’s too much— oh, yes, _yes_. Please Thor, I need— I need—“

“Be good and come for me, Loki,” Thor commands, biting down on his shoulder once more, bucking his hips into him at what he senses is just the right angle. 

Loki thrashes beneath him, his hips jerking uncontrollably against Thor’s. He gives a long harsh cry through gritted teeth as he tightens around Thor’s cock while Thor forces his orgasm from him, still rocking into him firm and steady, and he can feel Loki shuddering, whole body pulsating.

“Claim me,” Loki chokes out, pushing back against him, voice ragged. “If you want to keep me, then let me feel you, brother.”

Thor is overcome, feeling himself get that much closer to the edge— only allowing himself the luxury now that Loki has been satisfied. “You want me to spill inside you once more,” he moans, less a question then an affirmation, and Loki puts one of his hands over Thor’s, turning his face to the side to better look at him. “You want me to mark you here, too?

Loki says nothing, only gasps and stares at him with a half-closed eye glazed with pleasure. With a depth of need and intensity that Thor can’t even begin to fully unravel. He feels undeniably possessive, _unbearably_ protective.

“Will this be enough,” he persists, panting. “Will you be mine, brother? Will you stay with me, or will you make me forever give chase? ” He _has_ to know; he can’t bear the thought of Loki somehow regretting this, of stealing away in the night, slipping through his fingers for good. Thor would chase him to the ends of the galaxy if he had to, but only if he knew that in the end, Loki wanted this. That he would come back. 

And then too late, he sees the sudden brightness in Loki’s eyes and suddenly realizes his error— his sloppy wording in the heat of passion.

“Yes,” Loki breathes, “And no.” Thor feels a sharp squeeze of love and agony in his chest, but then Loki is tightening around him, the pleasure and heat of him almost unbearable.

And Thor’s entire body goes tense and the world turns itself inside out and everything is beautifully, blissfully— 

 

_Loki_

 

It feels like hours have passed before he finally realizes, drifting through the intense haze of pleasure, what his brother means. 

Of course it’s not enough. 

How could it be? How could he ever have his fill?

No, he feels the truth in him as undeniable as the marrow of his bones: he will ever want more, ever seek to know Loki deeper, ever seek to love him better than the day before. How could Thor ever give pause in his chase, when he was purpose-built to pursue and Loki was naturally born to evade? Are they not already inextricably bound in that dance? What more would Thor ask of him?

So they will never be satisfied— good. As it is meant to be. Once, twice, ten thousand times— it will _never_ be enough. 

Firm, gentle arms draw him down into an embrace and Thor sighs, coming to rest within the tangle of Loki’s limbs. They lay there for some minutes, just breathing, skin sticky with sweat and semen and Thor thinks it feels… almost perfect. And then—

“I’m sorry,” Loki’s saying, out of nowhere, voice tremulous with tears, and Thor can feel his sudden sobs against his chest. “I’m sorry, I— gods— _Thor_.”

“Shh, shhh, hey—” Thor rolls them to their sides so he can pull Loki into him, enveloping his shaking shoulders and tucking that dark, glossy head into his chest as he runs a comforting hand down Loki’s back to curl around his waist. “It’s okay, it’s alright, brother. I’m sorry too. It’s okay… listen to me. Everything is going to be fine… I promise you.”

Loki’s back shakes harder and after a few minutes of simply holding him and letting him weep away whatever demons he must, Thor tilts his chin up with a gentle finger so he can see Loki’s glassy eyes, gone pink again at the rims. Loki bites his lips, trying to stifle a sob, and Thor thinks again of that young scared boy he knows is still hiding within. He knows he has one of his own too, but nothing in him is scared right now. Not anymore— as if Loki’s fear as called his own strength forward in response.

“I’m here,” Thor says, gently but firmly, so Loki will know his words aren’t given lightly in the afterglow. “I’m here and we’re going to make all of this right, you and I.” He presses a kiss to Loki’s shaking, parted lips then draws back to nudge Loki’s nose with his own. “My love,” he breathes, testing it out, and finding he likes it. “Is that what I am to you?”

“I… yes,” Loki says, hesitantly, voice thick, but Thor sees the spark in his wet eyes. “That is what you are.”

Thor knows he can’t say it back just yet, but that’s no matter— he can hear the love in his brother’s voice. Actions have always spoken louder for Thor. He knows his brother’s true heart now.

“You never _really_ wanted to ruin us,” he cajoles, nosing into the slightly sweaty hair at Loki’s temple and pressing a kiss. “Did you.” He nudges his nose against Loki’s forehead next, smiling against his ever-so-humid skin. “Just didn’t think we could have this, hm? Just hadn’t dared to hope. It’s as if you’d completely forgotten how eager I’ve ever been to follow you straight into trouble.”

Loki laughs, gone ever-so-slightly breathless once more. “When did you get to be the wiser of us,” he muses, tucking a few loose strands behind Thor’s ear, only for them to immediately slip halfway loose when Thor pulls back to look at him. “I don’t like that at all.”

Thor just grins, ducking in to press their lips together.

“What can I say. I’m mad for fools. Beautiful, ridiculous fools.”

“Mm,” Loki sounds unimpressed, and Thor just smiles, humming in joy.

“And brother…”

He trails off, waiting for Loki to sense the shift in his mood before he continues.

“Run if you must,” he says, catching Loki’s eyes before he leans in, cupping Loki’s cheek and resting their foreheads together. “If that is what you truly need to feel yourself, then so be it. But so long as you need me equally, so long as this is your heart’s desire…” 

Thor pulls back, raising his brows in earnestness as he searches Loki’s face and finds those eyes riveted on his. “Know this,” he says, feeling the warmth of truth resonating in every fibre of him. “I will never stop chasing you. I will never reach my fill. I’ll always be in want of you. _Always_ , Loki. That is a vow I will gladly make.”

Loki’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, his eyes shining with something brilliant and contemplative and just a bit unreadable, as if lost in thought. Thor takes that as a good sign. He’s further encouraged by the way Loki gasps as Thor pulls one of his long legs over his hip, exposing Loki’s wet, sex-swollen rim and running his cock along it— he’s hard once more, lending credence to his words.

“Good,” Loki replies, seeming to come back to himself— his voice warm and low and wanting as he rocks forward just enough to encourage Thor to slip back inside him— and Thor knows he understands. 

“Perhaps I might just stay after all,” Loki muses, an impish smile subtly turning the corners of his lips as he shifts them until Thor is laying on his back and Loki is perched atop him, thighs squeezing Thor’s waist as his inner walls squeeze around Thor’s cock, making them both shudder in delight. 

“Now, brother…” His grin turns properly wicked, that familiar look Thor knows and loves. “Show me just how terribly in _want_ of me you are.”

Thor places his hands on Loki’s hips, and Loki places his own hands atop Thor’s. 

“How long do you have?” Thor asks with a playful smile, beginning to roll his hips in a slow, upward undulation. “Hours? Days? Weeks?” He pauses. “A lifetime?”

Loki’s eyes soften with something infinitely fond and loyal and loving, and the curve of his mouth follows suit. “Oh, brother...” he sighs, voice imbued with more warmth and happiness than Thor has heard in years. 

“I don’t plan on counting.”

_xx_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you from the bottom of my little gremlin heart for reading! Come find me at twitter.com/seidrade if you wanna cry about two Norse idiots.
> 
> xx


End file.
